


Madness and Magnetism

by theinspiredginger



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Allison Argent & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Allison and Stiles are Twins, Alpha Derek, Alternate Universe - Hunters, Alternate Universe - Twins, Angst, Attempt at Humor, BAMF Allison, Bonding, Derek and Stiles are Mates, F/M, Fluff, Forbidden Love, Hunter Allison, Hunter Stiles Stilinski, Hurt Derek, Hurt Stiles, Love/Hate, M/M, Mates, Oblivious Stiles, Pack Dynamics, Pack Feels, Past Kate Argent/Derek Hale, Protective Derek, Scott McCall & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Slow Build, Teen Angst, Warning: Kate Argent, but they refuse to be romeo and juliet, sterek
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-12
Updated: 2015-12-30
Packaged: 2017-12-19 05:59:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 77,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/880255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theinspiredginger/pseuds/theinspiredginger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i> "No, this can't be happening. I refuse for us to be Romeo and Juliet. No. It's not happening. No. So just stop. If you don't wipe that smirk off your face, I'll kill you. I mean it!" Stiles stared down at Derek, who just rolled his eyes. </i><br/><i>"Yeah because </i> that <i> worked out so well last time." </i></p><p>A hunter!AU were Stiles is part of the Argent clan, and does not live up to the hunting prowess of his older twin, Allison. In an attempt to prove himself to his family, Stiles sets out to take down the most vicious alpha of the area, Derek Hale. Through Stiles' bumbling attempts to kill Derek, and Derek's mocking banter, the hunt turns to a game and enemies turn to something more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Hunt Begins

**Author's Note:**

> OKIE DOKIE things to know before reading this thang:
> 
> 1.) Sterek is the main thing going on, but there is some sideline Scallison.  
> 2.) Stiles/Allison Brotp because they're twins and they love each other boom  
> 3.) There is a Stiles/Scott bromance later to come  
> 4.) This is NOT set in Beacon Hills (for reasons that will come to light later). It is set in Basin Falls, a fictional town near Pinnacles National Park (which is close to Salinas)  
> 5.)This was only supposed to be 30k....it is much more than that and I am still writing so yeah, sorry.  
> 6.) First semi-long fic for this fandom so askdjfksdjfs;danabkdksfjs good luck  
> UPDATE AS OF NOV 2015 I HAVE NOT ABANDONED THIS STORY and you're all like lol hard to fucking tell considering the last time you updated. yes yes i know I'm shitty. BUT i have FINALLY been reinvigorated to finish this. I hit a block and had a hard time writing myself out of it. Then I got pulled into another fandom, then writing for that, then LIFE, and here we are. BUT this story will be finished and I am working on it as we speak!!

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Stiles slammed the white wooden door, causing a few of the picture frames that hung on the walls to shake. Allison tried not to wince, but Stiles caught her grimace a moment before he flopped across her bed, muttering a variation of "Fuck, sorry." Allison dog-eared her spot in her summer reading book, happy for any distraction from mandatory reading, and plucked the two earbuds from her ears.

       “It's all good, no worries. What’s up little brother?” She smiled knowing without a doubt that he was rolling his eyes.

       “By two minutes.” Stiles groaned into the mattress, not bothering to look up.

       “Yep, and I'm never going to let you forget it. C’mon, what’s the matter?” She pulled her knees into her chest and rested her head on top. She looked down at her bare feet for a moment, the worry Stiles might try and tickle her passing quickly. Stiles rolled over onto his back, his legs and head hanging off the sides of the bed and Allison wondered if she should invest in upgrading to a full, if not a queen, for Stiles' mess of limbs. 

       “Why can't I be good at anything?" Stiles let his head roll to the side, peering up at Allison.

       "Don't be ridiculous. You're good at a lot of things." 

       "Nothing important." 

       "What's got you all merpy?" Allison fiddled with the hem of her yoga pants as she waited for Stiles to answer. She knew he had more to talk about than just a shrug of the shoulders. The silence continued on for a couple minutes with Allison snapping stray threads before Stiles sighed.   
        "Urgh, I’m just the absolute _worst_ hunter in the entire world! So, you know, the usual.” Stiles threw his hands in the air for emphasis then sighed and let them hang over his head.

       “I'm guessing training didn't go as well as you'd have hoped?” Allison smiled weakly as Stiles looked over at her.  He took in a few deep breaths and exhaled dramatically.

       “Yeah, you could say that." Stiles snarked back. "Yeah well this whole summer boot camp of working on our skill was just a horrible idea from the start. I mean for you, it makes sense. But me? Why the hell am I out there fucking around with bows and arrows like what did Dad think was going to happen."

       “Oh god, is everyone okay?” Allison looked up faux startled, then smiled wryly but Stiles just glared at her, “Right, sorry, that...I'm rude...continue.” Stiles rolled his eyes but held no grudge against her.

        “Yeah, well, all jokes aside, I didn’t kill anyone, though it was a close call. Really thought Dad might die of mortification. So yeah, I missed the FUCKING target by 30 fucking miles, I mean feet, fuck I can’t talk right now. But hey! It _looked_ like miles. And then of course freaking Gerard…”

       “Grandpa...” Allison corrected with an innocent smile. Stiles dropped his jaw as he rolled his eyes over-dramatically.

       “Allison--"

      "I am JUST saying--"

      "--No,  _not_ grandpa. Grandpa is for the cute bumbling around old men who talk about the way it used to be and how they had to hike up hill both ways in the snow and they wear soft plaid flannels and smile at their grandkids and sometimes they muster up the energy to play catch and sometimes they catch you off guard with some racist or homophobic or just what-the-fuck kind of sayings but overall, 'Grandpa's are sweet and kind when they aren't being a little problematic. Anyone over 65, who is more than _a little problematic,_ is not grandpa. They're grandfather's and you know what Gerard is way more than a little problematic okay. I’ll call him grandpa when he stops being a creepy, horror-movie villain, speaking of creepy- horror-movie villains, do you wanna know what he _did_? He walks over to me and whispers in my ear, ‘Hey son, if you don’t start using that Argent blood you got pumping through your veins, I’ll drain it right out of you!’ Then he laughed! As in maniacally laughed as in 'MUHAHA'. You can't make this shit up, Allison.”

Stiles was quiet for a moment; his exuberance died down, his face somehow seemed lifeless, the corner of his mouth pulling up a bit, as he bit the inside of his cheek. Allison made sure no take her gaze away from the tears forming in Stiles' eyes.

“You should have seen Dad. He looked so ashamed. He couldn’t even look at me on the way back.” Allison crawled over and hugged Stiles, who sighed and muttered, “I just want him to be proud of me, Al. God, why am I such a fuck up.”

       “Shhh. Stiles, he’s so proud of you! We all are!" Allison rubbed his arm in their embrace. "You're so smart, Stiles. No one in the Argent family has gotten grades like yours in…. well ever! You’re officially the smartest Argent! ” Her words practically glowed with sincerity, but they just seemed to dissolve once they met Stiles’ wall of discontent. 

       “Allison, you know what I mean.” Now it was Allison’s turn to sigh.She kissed the side of his head as she wrapped her limbs around him tighter, giving him a squeeze.

       “Yeah, I know.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* 

       A little over a week later, Allison woke up in the middle of the night, parched. Her throat throbbed for water and her mouth was dry as bone. Still mostly asleep, her hand reached out blindly before her sleepy mind could give it clear instructions; her hand blindly swung toward the nightstand knocking the glass over. She became painstakingly awake a second too late as she heard the hard clink of the glass at it landed on its side, spilling water down her nightstand and all over the hardwood floor. She groaned as she tipped the glass back to a standing position, then swung her legs over the edge of the bed and groggily got up. Allison stumbled to her hamper looking for a dirty shirt or boxers to sop up the water, but looked dejectedly at the empty basket and cursed herself for being so productive just hours before.

       She continued down the hall to the linen closet, only to see the light from Stiles’ room blaring out from the edges of his closed door. Curiosity got the best of her, and she knocked quietly on the door. She slowly turned the handle and whispered "Stiles". He was hunched over his desk, his laptop screen illuminating his face.

       “Stiles?” She spoke a little louder this time, and Stiles whipped around in his desk chair.

       “Allison! You’re up! You should be asleep—We have training tomorrow you know—but hey since you’re up, come here! I wanna show you something. Look, I’ve been doing research for hours! And I’ve finally figured it out, my god I’m such a genius!” Stiles chattered excitedly as Allison ambled over towards him. She sat on the edge of his bed and peered over his shoulder at the screen. He seemed to be in the dark recesses of the internet and she groaned internally. Suddenly a pair of fingers was snapping themselves in front of her face. 

       “Wake up sis! C’mon this is so totally awesome this can’t wait. I’ll tell you, then you can go back to sleep…well that is if you’re able to go back to sleep after you hear this…”

       “Stiles…”

       “Right, sorry. Okay, so you know how I made a complete ass of myself last Saturday?” Allison nodded. “What? Al, you’re supposed to be like ‘No, Stiles what are you talking about? You didn’t make an ass of yourself, you’re a beautiful person and you have so much potential’ and blah blah blah.” Allison glared, unamused. Stiles was just a teensy bit upset that he couldn’t get even a smirk out of her, but the moment came and went as he remembered it was 3 o’clock in the morning and he had probably woken her up. “Sorry, sorry. Anyways, yeah, you know what I’m talking about. Well, I started thinking…” Allison rolled her eyes; Stiles ignored her and continued, “Being a brainy little smart ass is great and all, I mean it is my only truly defining characteristic, but why can’t I be a badass hunter too? And I don’t mean the one that _only_ stays home and strategizes either, Allison.--Yeah, I can see your rebuttals formulating in that head of yours.--Anyway, I realized that I had to take my strategic skills and put them to the test! That way I can prove that not only am I _brilliant_ , but also a complete and total badass for being able to follow my plan through! EH? EH?” Allison smiled, happy that her brother had finally gotten out of his three-day funk.

       “Okay, so how are you going to do that?” There was no sarcasm or even a hint of doubt, purely curiosity and interest.

       “RIGHT! I completely forgot the greatest part! So, you know how Dad’s pretty sure a new werewolf pack has moved into town? But he has no idea where they are? Yeah, well I did some snooping around, actually more like an intensive stake out and a hell of a lot of research, and BOOM they’re here and I know where they’re hiding. Who's 'they'?' You ask? None other than the new and improved Hale Pack! And would you like to know what I’m going to DO with this information? I’m going to kill their Alpha, as in _THE_ DEREK _FREAKING_ HALE!” Stiles smiled wide and Allison’s joy drained from her face.

       “Stiles, I don’t think…”

       “I KNOW, I know. ‘Stiles, this isn’t a good idea. You’re going to get yourself killed. Why don’t you just tell Dad you found the Hale Pack and he’ll stop being mad at you about the training thing? What makes you think you can take one the whole Hale Pack by yourself?’ I know. But Al, you _gotta_ trust me on this. I’m not going to do anything stupid okay?”

       “Really? Because this seems pretty stupid.”

       “Look, I’m not going into this guns blazing. Or arrows or anything like that. I’m going to come up with a plan, a foolproof plan, and then I’m going to carry it out. Maybe that plan’ll involve you and Dad, and the rest of them. I don’t know, but you have to let me do this on my own. Please, you have to trust me.”

       “Stiles, this isn’t about me trusting you…”

       “Allis—“

       “ _Stiles_. You can’t do this. This is a stupid idea. You’re going to what? Come up with a plan by yourself and then put it into action, _by your self?_ Stiles, you can’t even pass basic combat training, how do you plan on taking down _Derek Hale_? Stiles, you aren’t a good enough hunter to do it! Dad wouldn’t even think to do it by himself! Hunters work in groups Stiles! Taking down _one_ werewolf is normally done in pairs if not in three- or foursomes. And you want to take down an _alpha_ , and his pack, by yourself. You do remember who Derek Hale is, right? He's the guy who burned his whole family alive so he could become an Alpha. And you want to kill him as proof of your ‘hunter prowess’? He burned his WHOLE FAMILY, Stiles. Over eleven people in one go. Eleven people who were his brothers and sisters and parents and uncles and aunts and cousins. People he actually _cared_ about, and he burned them alive.  He’s the prime example of a dangerous monster! And you…” Allison stopped mid-sentence, too dumbstruck to continue further. It was quiet for a moment, an unnatural, heavy silence that rarely developed between the two. Stiles continued to fidget before he looked up from the ground.

“Allison, c’mon. I promise I’m not going to…”

       “Do anything stupid?” She raised an eyebrow.

       “Al—“

       “Stiles, this isn’t up for negotiation.” Stiles’ head fell dejectedly; his shoulders slumped. He fiddled with his hands in his lap, feeling like a five year old. Allison ran her fingers through her hair, upset. “Stiles…I’m sorry. That whole thing came out a little harsher than I intended.” Stiles tilted his head up and a small smirk hinted at the corner of his lips; the bluff was so well played even his twin mistook it to be genuine.

       “It’s okay. I know you didn’t mean it like that. But you’re right anyway. I just got a little ahead of myself I guess.” He looked back down at his hands, and avoided her gaze. Allison incorrectly attributed it to his reluctant acceptance of the decision. She smiled and wrapped her arms around him.

       “Al, you should go to bed…training and all…” She nodded happily at him in response , relieved that she could finally go back to bed. She kissed the top of his head and slugged him on the shoulder on her way out.

Allison tried her best to walk down the hallway as quietly as possible; she picked each placement of her feet with care, avoiding the floorboards known to creak in protest to any pressure. She got to the edge of her bed and realized she’d never gotten the towel to soak up the mess she’d made. She didn’t even think to groan as she just sighed in resignation, pulling the pillowcase from her pillow and throwing it over the puddle. She pressed the fabric down with her foot, and then crawled into bed. She rolled over a couple times before acquiescing that Stiles had forgiven her and that she would properly apologize in the morning when she wasn’t half asleep. _Some chocolate chip pancakes are in order_ she mused as she quickly drifted off.

 

Stiles cracked his neck and felt the soreness of his eyes intensify. Well, the Plan would have to go under some alterations; he hadn’t included avoiding and lying to his sister in the plan. But hey, planning could wait a few hours right? He closed his laptop and crawled into bed, pulling the covers tightly around himself. He was blissfully happy, wrapped up in his fantasies of killing the alpha, with only a slight nagging feeling at the web of lies he was shortly going to be weaving. Aside from the new obstacle, he had perfected the plot in a hundred different ways, scrutinizing over every detail, anticipating every flaw and reworking each aspect of it to overcome these fatal flaws.

Stiles had been busy over the past several days, leaving every spare moment to the coordination of his masterpiece.

His mind refused to quiet down, though his body was begging to relax. He lay in half agony and half euphoria as his mind and body battled back and forth. His thoughts wandered as more and more scenarios played out. Busy as his mind was, it failed to notice the irony of blood and death filled fantasies serving as bedtime stories. Five minutes over an hour passed and Stiles finally found much needed sleep.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

The day was bright, the sun was shining, and Stiles felt like death warmed over. The sunlight poured in through the windows and Stiles cursed the higher power that let him forget to close the blinds the night prior. He groaned into his pillow as he realized he was soon expected to be downstairs ready for training—- _Approximately ten minutes ago, shit_ —- Stiles tossed his phone back on the desk after checking the time. He tried to stand but ended up falling in a tumble of sheets. He stayed on the floor in the twisted mess, deciding what he actually planned on doing. He remained there and didn't bother to move even when he heard the approaching footsteps towards his door.

"Stiles?" He groaned in response to his sister’s call. "What are you doing?"

"Al, go 'way" He instantly regretted the flippant phrase as his sister’s face fell. _Shit_. “Tired. Don’t wanna get up.” The anguish on her face melted and Stiles felt relieved.

"What about training Stiles? You gotta get up; dad’s looking for you." 

"Tell him I'm sick or something I don't want to go today. Not today. Not ever."

"Stiles...."

"Allison you were right.  I'm no expert hunter and I never will be. I just want to stop pretending. " Allison was quiet but eventually nodded. “Al, I’m not mad at you, seriously, so get that frown off your face. I just need some time to myself okay?”

"Okay," She chewed her lip for a moment, "Stiles, what I said last night...Look, I didn't...Just because I said what I said, doesn't mean you should quite hunting! Stiles you're a great hunter! Everyone needs practice and--"

"Al," Stiles cut off her guilty rambling, "I'm not saying I'm _quitting_ quitting. Just maybe, I should focus on my strengths more. Strategizing, planning, you know. I'll figure it out as I go, you know how I do." He smiled at her, and she smirked with a roll of her eyes.

"Well, we'll be gone for all of today. Probably won’t be back until late tomorrow night, maybe early morning the day after. I'll tell mom and grandpa that you’re sick, and I can—um—talk to dad, alone, if you want."

"You don't have to do that." 

Allison merely rolled her eyes as a response, a silent 'No shit, Sherlock', to which Stiles shrugged, letting her choose to do make the decision. He knew she'd only act on it if she felt it was best. Stiles wanted to tell her to just leave it alone, that he could and would deal with it on his own. But he wanted that just as much as he wanted to avoid the whole conversation and let Allison talk it out with their dad. Hell, maybe the whole _I quit training and hunting thing_ would help out with the whole _I’m-totally-not-hunting-Derek-Hale_ scheme. And people called Stiles a pessimist.

  

       “Have fun! And kick ass!” She smiled in response and rolled her eyes as Stiles struggled to escape his sheet entanglement.

       “Don’t hurt yourself.”

       “Ha. Ha. I’m _dying_.” He managed to stand up and give her a hug good bye. 

       “Told you to be careful.”  He shook his head as he finally got himself back into bed as she closed his door. _Okay so what am I actually going to do for the next two days?_ Stiles pondered as he heard the hustle of footsteps downstairs and the quiet clatter of dishes as they were fed into the dishwasher. He heard the sound of several sets of jingling keys as his sister, father, mother, Gerard, and various cousins, exited through the door. He heard the click of the lock, followed by several car doors closing. It wasn’t long before the numerous engines started and pulled out of the driveway.

Stiles lifted his head to look out the window and he saw Allison’s bumper turn the corner and disappear.

He’d wait fifteen minutes before he actually starting getting ready; it would give him time to plan what he wanted to do and give them time to come back if they had forgotten something. The Ferris Bueller’s routine wouldn’t work out so well if they found Stiles gearing up. Stiles figured some more surveillance might be in order, or he could test out some of his plans minus the star of the show. He could set up some of the traps out in the woods and set them off to figure out all the multiple mistakes that were bound to happen. Yeah, he could do that.  

The remaining twelve minutes of confining himself to bed seemed to pass at a snail’s pace. Stiles switched his gaze back and forth between the window and his phone until his time out was officially done. He leapt out of bed and splashed water on his face in a pathetic attempt of a shower. He hurried down stairs after throwing on a pair of jeans and his red hoodie, and grabbed an apple off the counter. He bit into it and held it in his mouth, leaving his other two hands free to check his texts and open the fridge door. He saw a pile of chocolate chip waffles on a plate, with his name written on a post-it note stuck on top. He pulled the plate from the fridge and saw the post-it note on the back said: _Sorry it’s not pancakes! But I don’t think you’ll mind._ He smiled and popped them in the microwave as he took the composition notebook from underneath his arm and flipped through the ink-covered pages.

Stiles had a million plans formulate in his mind in the past week and to keep it all organized, he decided to write the best ones down; he didn’t realize how many he had until now as he flipped through the thirty three pages of diagrams, graphs, arrows, and to do lists. _Oh, Jesus._ The saying had double meaning as popping sounds came from the microwave. Stiles wrenched the plate out, forgetting that it was hot, and burnt his fingers as he dropped the plate with a loud clatter onto the countertop.

“Hey, I really don’t need any of your shit today, Universe.”  He smirked at his own ‘joke’, and then subsequently shook his head; the intelligent portion of him obviously embarrassed by the immature personality.

He inhaled the waffles that were way too hot, choking them down as they burned his esophagus. He grabbed a backpack and threw in the needed supplies for Trial Run: #1 of god-knows-how-many: nylon cord, nets, darts, rope, his gun, a dozen wolfsbane bullets, and of course his pride and joy concealed in three old shoeboxes.

He packed himself a couple sandwiches and enough snacks to feed a small army, along with a few bottles of water and his notebook. He zipped up the bag and threw it onto his back as he jogged out the back door. His jeep sat parked in the garage and he patted the hood good morning before clambering into the driver’s side.

He turned the key and the jeep came alive; the radio blared and Stiles jumped at the attack of sound. He turned the volume down to a level where his ears didn't bleed and half-heartedly cursed himself for never remembering to turn it off after a jam session. He pulled out of the garage and down the driveway with the music filling the car, still louder than any rational person would allow. But Stiles liked the noise; it seemed to make his mind focus on only a few things, as opposed to the rapid fire of random thoughts that usually raced through his head.

He continued down the road; he'd go out into the preserve and practice some of the traps there. Do a couple of dry runs. Nothing too extreme.

He wasn’t concerned with running into Derek or any of his pack because on a previous stakeout he'd discovered that they were hiding out in an abandoned subway station. Not to mention he wasn’t anywhere close to the old Hale mansion.

He drove for a good twenty minutes until he found a good place to hike down deeper into the forest. He threw his pack onto his back and left the jeep at the edge of the reserve. He hiked for over half an hour trying to find the perfect area that would allow him to test out his numerous traps and schemes.

He eventually found a grouping of trees, shrubs, and rocks to accommodate his multiple necessities.

He sat on one of the large boulders and jerked open the zipper of the Jansport. The composition notebook unfolded in his hands and he flipped through the pages until he found his favorite plan. Technically, it was Scheme Fourteen but from this point forward he dubbed it Plan A. Plan A was quite magnificent. It involved a rope trap-net hybrid, resembling something of a spider web, which would entangle Derek. However, normal rope wouldn’t contain a werewolf, let alone an Alpha, so Stiles had come up with the idea (okay, so maybe he got a little—or a lot—of inspiration from the Jesus of Nazareth movie he was forced to watch in World Religions, just a few weeks back. Sue him) to soak the ropes in gorilla glue and broken shards of glass and nails, which had been coated in wolfsbane oil. 

He pulled the old shoeboxes from his backpack and hesitantly lifted the lid. He peered in at the net he’d crafted over the past few days. It truly was amazing how productive one could be on summer vacation without hours of school or homework to focus on. 

He carefully pulled out the separate sections of the large net. He worked weaving the seams together and laid it on the ground.  He pulled the nylon cord out and wove that around the edges, making it so the ends pulled together in the center. He attempted to throw the large amount of excess cord over the large branches above him. In retrospect, he probably should have gotten the cords in the tree and lowered them down, _then_ attach the ends to the edges of the circular trap. But hey, this is why you do dry runs, right? 

He groaned as he attempted to make a last ditch effort to place the cords in the tree before unweaving them and placing them in the correct way. He attached a heavy clip used in rock climbing to end of the cord to give it some weight and threw it to a high branch. It soared up and was mere chance from hooking over its proper placement but knocked into a twig and came racing back down. Stiles, to avoid getting hit in the face with the heavy projectile, jumped out of the way, only to trip on part of the net and fall into it. The wolfsbane soaked glass cut into his skin in a few select places and stung like a bitch, but wolfsbane didn’t have a deadly effect on humans so Stiles stood up wiped the blood on his pants and continued to work with the death trap.

While Stiles was correct in that wolfsbane wasn’t deadly to humans like it was to werewolves, he’d forgotten what affect it _did_ have on humans: intense hallucinations. On humans, the wolfsbane took its time to manifest the full effects. At first cloudy vision and a slight distortion of sound would develop. Soon it’d lead to clumsiness and uncoordinated movements of one’s limbs; the beginning effects were practically identical to being shit-faced drunk. But once the beginning symptoms took affect, the hallucinations would come so quickly and vividly that Stiles would never see it coming. For Stiles, it was all reality.

Stiles took a misstep as he did a double take as the trees seemed to pulsate, growing wide and shrinking. He stared intently at the leaves and they fluttered gently with the breeze and he chalked up his blurred vision to just a bit of vertigo. Out of the corner of his eye the leaves became fuzzy, but he continued unweaving the cords and somehow managed to scramble up the tree. It was as he was straddling the large branch that he zoned out on the bark as he watched what look like small rivers flow up the wooden grooves. He felt dizzy and gripped onto the branch tighter, the intensifying sounds of the forest pulling him from his day dream. Stiles shook his head and looked around; he could have _sworn_ he could hear a butterfly beat its wings from fifty yards away. _Damn, did I forget to take my Adderall? Or did I accidentally double dose?_

Once he lowered the cords down and had practically fallen out of the tree, he re-laced the cords in the net and surveyed his work. The net had taken on a sinister quality to Stiles. He stared at it in fear as he backed away from it. He continued to set up the remainder of the trap in a hallucinated stupor. A drunken like quality hung about him, _that_ coupled with his impulsive decision-making and overall clumsiness was a deadly combination. And the hallucinations began to creep up on him. 

Stiles whipped around in paranoia as he felt a million eyes on him. His palms became sweaty and his head throbbed. He could hear the heartbeat of his would-be attackers and jumped at the loud crunch of a snapping twig. Stiles stumbled back as a pair of red eyes glowed at him from the underbrush. Stiles looked around, scared and shocked, to see it was pitch black out, the moon hiding from the devil night. The rational thought that ‘Hadn’t it just been noon, a few minutes ago?’ didn’t even begin to register as he continually backed up from the black menace that was approaching him. It growled and slowly circled Stiles.

There was no doubt, no mistaking those blood red eyes. It was the Alpha. And Stiles knew he was completely fucked. 

The large black wolf—if you could even call it that—bared its teeth and a growl rumbled through its chest. White foam seeped from its jaws as it continued to trap him. Stiles stumbled backward and took a misstep. He stepped on the trigger of the net and it wrapped around him and surged his body upwards. The nails and glass tore into his skin as he dangled ten feet up above the ground. Stiles struggled to get free, pulling and twisting around in the net, forgetting that the evil of the trap wanted him to do just that. However, Stiles wasn’t aware that he was caught in his own trap. His skin tore and he bled as the jagged pieces of glass ripped him apart, but he only saw the claws and jaws of five different wolves. He screamed out in pain but he couldn’t even hear his screams. He began to convulse as the wolfsbane overflowed his veins.  No coherent thoughts ran through his mind as he fought the net. His vision began to slip and his limbs grew limp. He seemed to fall into the darkness without much of a fight. He welcomed the black blanket that encased his mind, as he escaped the overwhelming surges of pain and terror.

 *~*~*~*

Stiles awoke on a bare mattress that smelled of mildew and old socks. He looked around in a daze and felt immobile, his body heavy and stiff. A tall dark figure appeared in the doorway; the figure blurry as Stiles squinted, attempting to force his eyes to focus. It walked over to him, the creaking of the wood amplified every footstep. Stiles strove to rise but even the feeble effort made him cry out in pain.

“You’re okay. Go back to sleep.” The voice was demanding yet somehow warm, and Stiles felt comforted and stopped fighting the urge to relax. A hand rested on his shoulder and a hot sensation spread from the touch. The tension in his muscles disappeared and the pain dissipated within a minute. His thoughts slowed and his eyelids grew heavy. Even in a haze, Stiles slurred a 'thank you' before letting sleep overtake him, missing the whispered “For fuck’s sake.”

 


	2. Following Bread Crumbs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The After-Math

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wahhh! chapter 2! okay so some things to know for _this_ specifically and for things to come:
> 
> Stiles likes to swear....a lot. Be warned. aaaaand I should probably say some other things regarding the actual chapter, but yeah
> 
> THANK YOU so much for reading and givin' kudos and comments and yay! It really makes my day so thank you!

The bright glare of the sun’s rays bore into Stiles’ face. He squinted and stiffly curled in on himself, wincing at the pain erupting on his side. Stiles slowly lifted his lids and opened his eyes again, almost vomiting at the sight. He was home in his room. The familiar blue walls were a shock and somehow not comforting at all, the posters void of meaning and Stiles felt estranged from his surroundings. The sun was shining through his window and his backpack hung on the back of his chair. Everything seemed far too normal for it to be real, too picturesque. The events of the day prior rushed back to him as he stared confusedly around his room. The panic set in in quickly.

_OK, what the fuck happened? Oh shit, am I dead? No, no, okay not dead. Oh fuck, did Dad find me? Did Mom? Oh shit, if it’s Gerard…what if it was Allison? Did any of that even happen? What fucking day is it? What day did I go out? It was a Friday, I think. What day’s today, oh, Saturday. Okay. WAIT OKAY. So they shouldn’t be home yet? Right...unless it’s been over a fucking week and—okay no it’s only Saturday afternoon okay. But are they here? Maybe they came home early… Do I hear anybody down stairs? No. Can I move? Yes. OK. Do I have any scars? … Ummm No? Will that scar? Maybe? I have no idea. I thought I had bled a lot more. Where’d this shirt come from? I wasn’t wearing this shirt before. Is this even my shirt? But yeah, I’d thought I bled a lot more. I don’t have that many scratches either. And they’re scratches…not even gashes or anything like that. Maybe it wasn’t as bad as I thought. Maybe that was the hallucinations. So how bad was it then? Shit… Can I stand? Yes, Ow. Okay kinda. Maybe I can look in the mirror to see the damag—oh fuck. Okay so THAT’s a gash ok. That’s definitely going to scar…wait are those—are those fucking stitches? What the actual fuck. What HAPPENED? Oh-my-GOD I CANT FUCKING BELIEVE WHAT THR FU-I can never go to Vegas. I’ll be like Stew from the Hangover, missing fucking teeth and shit…AND OH MY GOD am I missing? Oh okay no, we’re good. Got all my teeth. Whew. Jesus Christ._

Stiles held himself up, his arms gripped tightly to the edge of the bathroom sink. He was practically shaking as he stared at himself. He took several deep breaths to suppress the oncoming panic attack.

_Come on. Pull it together. Everything’s going to be fine. See! You’re alive and you’re home. Alone. Which means no one knows anything. We just gotta figure out what happened. We’re fine._

After years of practice, Stiles reined himself in, just barely, but he managed it. He splashed some cold water on his overheated face in an effort to retain the calm he’d acquired. He threw on a pair of jeans and kept the t-shirt he had on, but didn’t bother with a sweatshirt. He slowly walked down the stairs, noticing a sharp pain in his right hip. It wasn’t until he made it to the driveway that he realized his jeep was there.

_Did I drive home? Shit. I can’t remember._

He tugged his keys out of his back pocket and got into the driver’s seat. He turned the ignition with his hand hovering over the volume knob of the stereo. But it was off and the only sound emanated from the rumble of the engine.   _Well, that isn’t FUCKING odd at all._ He turned the radio on but had the volume turned down incredibly low.

       “Hey, Stiles. Calm down. We’re fine. We’re alive. We’re talking out loud to our self partially in the third person, but hey, could totally be worse.” Stiles drummed his fingers nervously on the steering wheel as he drove toward where he was yesterday.  It wasn’t until he was halfway to his destination that another epiphany smacked him in the face.

      _WHY THE FUCK WAS MY CAR IN THE DRIVEWAY. I NEVER PARK IN THE MOTHER FUCKING—You know what, parking in the driveway is so not the biggest issue right now…BUT SERIOUSLY WHY WOULD I—stop. Remember, big picture._

       After battling internally for a good fifteen minutes, Stiles arrived at the edge of the preserve where he had parked the day before, the breaks squeaking slightly as he braked. His hands were shaking and he was suddenly rethinking this plan. He eventually killed the engine and clamored out of the jeep. Hiking through the woods definitely took him a lot longer, what with him having to hobble around. Before, he’d—somewhat—agilely maneuvered over logs and creeks, but now he stumbled through the leaves and rocks, cursing every two steps with each trip and misstep. Stiles finally found the area he’d set up and he collapsed on a midsize rock to catch his breath. The memories started flowing back in patches, but he still couldn’t distinguish what was real and what were hallucinations. _Except being attacked by the Alpha. Pretty sure I wouldn’t have survived that one with only a couple scratches._ He walked towards the area where the net had been set up and saw remnants of his blood on leaves and the bark of the tree. He shivered involuntarily as he squatted down to get a better look.

       “You looking for something?” Stiles jumped ten—okay, maybe it was only two—feet into the air, and whirled around to meet the Alpha. Derek Hale stood in front of him with a terrifying scowl on his face. Stiles watched as the Alpha’s eyes survey him as he took a step closer to Stiles. Stiles stumbled back a step and Derek’s eyes narrowed more than Stiles had thought possible. He swallowed before remembering he’d been asked a question.

       “I..um..was here the other day and I thought I forgot…left…thought I left something. But uh, yeah. You know hiking through the forest, going on adventures. S’what summer’s all about. And yeah. All those adventures and excitement kind of make me forgetful so yeah, no red sweatshirt here. Um…” Thank the high powers that Stiles jaw hurt from the numerous bruises and scratches so he was forced to cease his incessant rambling.

       “So you’re not here to try to set a trap to try and kill me…again.” Stiles mouth fell open.

       “I…uh..what?...I have no idea what you’re talk—”

       “You seemed pretty intent on the idea yesterday. You know right after you nearly killed yourself.” The unspoken 'idiot' was loud and clear. Stiles laughed nervously, 

       “You’re pretty narcissistic if you think I came all the way out here to kill you, and only you, and devised a whole plan to do so.”

       “And you’re pretty stupid if you get caught in your own trap, and then in a delusional state tell your target the plan, in ridiculous detail, on how you plan to kill them.”  

       “I _didn’t_ …” Stiles questioned as he internally pleaded that the Alpha was just a secret comedian; however, Derek managed to snort a chuckle as an affirmation. “Oh my _god_ , are you going to kill me?” Derek rolled his eyes.

       “I think you’re doing a pretty good job of that on your own.”

       “Oh, fuck you. “ Stiles half regretted the words that tumbled out of his mouth but didn’t really care enough to take them back. He’d gotten into numerous situations with his lack of a brain-to-mouth filter. Though none of them consisted of pissing off an Alpha. Yet...

       “I’m just saying, if I really wanted you dead, I’d just let you try to kill me again.” Derek smirked and it was anything but friendly. It was mocking, mean, and spiteful. _Those are nearly all synonyms, yet all completely necessary_ , Stiles thought to himself.

       “Yeah, well I’ll pencil you in for next week.” Stiles turned around angrily and stalked off towards the trail to his car. He heard a smug, “Good luck with that.” He shoved his hands into his jean pockets as he continued on his hike back to the jeep. He got about ten feet when Derek called after him.

       “It’s practically destroyed and covered in your own blood, but your red sweatshirt’s in the backseat.” Stiles could hear the sneer in his voice, and if it weren’t for pure survival instincts he would have punched the gloating smile off of the Alpha’s face.

       “I leave the fucking radio **ON**.” Stiles managed to trip only once on his dramatic departure and pretended he didn’t hear the muffled laughter from behind him. He counted it a win and continued to his car, seething in anger and humiliation, his fists balled up and the pale skin stretching tightly over his knuckles. 

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Derek slammed the metal door to the subway station and leapt from the top step to the floor, not even bothering to actually walk down the stairs. He immediately headed for his train car and the bare mattress that awaited him inside. He barely made it a foot from the bottom of the steps before all three betas surrounded him.

“Where’ve you _been_?” Isaac said as he sniffed Derek’s left shoulder. Erica pushed him out of the way, her arms crossed over her chest.

“You’ve been gone for two days. And you smell like blood and dirt and kind of...familiar. What the hell is that smell?” Erica’s nose was crinkled as she tried the place Stiles’ smell. Boyd remained quiet but nodded in agreement.

“There was a situation by the Hale House. I took care of it.” Derek said as a dismissal, and they all backed away slightly, Erica still hovering closer than the boys.

“Why didn't you tell us? We could have helped.” Erica asked, not nearly as upset as before. 

“I wasn’t planning on said situation. I was making a trip to the Hale House when I heard something. I went to investigate. A teenager had stumbled into a hunter’s trap.” Derek tried not to smirk, because while his heart beat wouldn't give him away (it wasn't a lie after all...), his sick sense of humor would. All the betas looked horrified and complained in an uproar, slew of curse words and the name Argent thrown about angrily, which then led to just cursing out hunters of all kinds in general, a common theme in their little werewolf household. Isaac shook his head, and suddenly looked up with concern.

“Wait, is the person okay?” Derek nodded, thinking back to Stiles’ defiant nature. Isaac's insistent stare clearly wanted more detail.

“He’s fine.”  Derek avoided Isaac's annoyed if not disappointed look and continued to his train car. He tried not to audibly sigh in relief when no one followed him with more questions. He flopped onto his mattress, squeezed in between four seats in the back. He covered his eyes with his arm and groaned aloud, no longer caring if the betas heard him or not. He lay in angry agony thinking about the last two days. 

 _This can't be happening. Why does this shit always happen to_ **me** _?_ Derek barely resisted the urge to get up and punch a whole through the metal car.  _What the_ **fuck** _am I going to do?_

 

* * *

 

       Stiles got home close to 6pm and stormed through the house as best he could with a limp and ribs that screamed in pain with every movement of his torso. Anger and embarrassment seemed to pollute the entire house, and he didn't need a werewolf's nose to notice it. He sat at the breakfast counter and tapped his fingers on the granite, hard enough to the point his fingernails began to throb with pain. 

His infuriated rumination was interrupted as his phone began to vibrate violently. _Jesus are you trying to twerk or what?_  Stiles was too angry to correct his joke that barely made sense as he pulled his phone out of his pocket. The lock screen looked like it had a life of its own as numerous texts and notifications came through, only now just getting reliable signal. _4G reliable coverage my ass._ All the texts were from Allison— _shocker_.

 

To: Stiles

Frm: Al

_Have you been eating?_

 

To: Stiles

Frm: Al

_wat am I saying. Nevermind_

 

To:Stiles

Frm: Al

_If you correct my grammer or spelling Stiles so help me god_

 

To: Stiles:

Frm: Al

_*grammar shut it my fingers are so sweaty I cant fuckin type_

 

To: Stiles

Frm: Al

_grandpa shot a deer i couldnt help but think of bambi :(_

 

To: Stiles

Frm: Al

_btw sorry I didn’t text you yesterday service is shotty_

 

To: Stiles

Frm: Al

_Im giving you the benefit of the doubt that service still is shit because you ARENT REPLYING_

 

To: Stiles

Frm: Al

_i need you here stiles. No one packed real food im literally eating beef jerky_

 

To: Stiles

Frm: Al

_and canned beans_

 

To: Stiles

Frm: Al

_did you hear me stiles? Canned beans!!!!!! That’s what im dealing with. I hope you enjoyed those fucking waffles_

 

To: Stiles

Frm: Al

_btw we’re coming home monday night. So enjoy the next two days eating ACTUAL FOOD_

 

Stiles chuckled as he sent off a text rambling on about the luxurious life of video games and junk food, and threw in a “night sis” at the end.  He not so gently dropped the phone onto the counter, the clatter echoing through the kitchen. He sat and ruminated about the day’s events and the brief contentment that Allison’s texts had brought, disappeared.

Stiles groaned as humiliation and shame began to consume him. He angrily replayed his conversation with the Alpha and his mocking tone. Stiles jerked out of the stool and angrily pulled the fridge door open. He pushed containers and jars out of the way not really looking for anything in particular. His thoughts, all consumed in the sly smirk and humiliation, couldn’t concentrate on figuring out what to cook. He’d subconsciously gotten out a pot and began to boil water for spaghetti. He fiddled with the box of uncooked noodles and threw them into the bubbling water. He wasn’t even aware of what he was doing until his skin on his forearm burned from the splashes from the pot. He looked around in a daze but continued on autopilot as he got out a smaller pot for the pasta sauce and put it over the burner. He drummed his fingers on the granite counter top as his thoughts and emotions surged through him.

 _That asshole. Thinks he’s so cool. I could totally kill him if I wanted! AND I WANT TO. Just ‘cause I kinda messed today—er, yesterday—up doesn’t mean…Hell that wasn’t even the real deal! The whole POINT of the other day was for a TEST RUN. Its whole purpose was to find the fucking flaws so I can fix them when the time comes. And it was a great learning fucking experience. So, yeah, definitely remembered how wolfsbane affects humans. That is_ **valuable** _information. Now I know that I need to be extremely careful with anything pertaining to it and that if I do get a little nicked up by it to stop and tend to those wounds! And he’s all smug with his fucking condescending glare and ‘good luck with that’. Fuck you. I know what I’m doing and you have no idea what you’re fucking in for, buddy. Urgh. Ass. ‘Oh, I’m mister cool-kid Alpha. I spend my time brooding in the forest and making snide comments.’ Well fuck you_ Mr. Alpha _. ‘Good luck with that.’ URGH.  You know what, yeah. I will fucking pencil you mother fucking in for next week. Just you fucking wait. Plan B, is going to be so much fucking better and oh I can't wait to see you bleeding and dying! You won’t be fucking laughing then. Can’t make snide, smug comments if you’re coughing up blood. Huh? Asshole._

       Stiles drained the pasta, now the consistency of baby food because he’d gotten distracted and left it to cook in the pot a good sixteen minutes over the suggested cook time. He spooned it onto a plate and turned to the burning sauce. He stirred and could feel the spoon scrape against the burnt bottom of the pan. "Yikes, whatever," he lamented as he poured the charred sauce over the mush he pretended was spaghetti, attempting to keep out the black flakes of carbonized tomatoes. 

       Stiles was normally a pretty fantastic cook. He had a knack for several dishes and cooked more often than his mom, who refused to busy herself with any food preparation requiring more effort than making a bowl of cereal—even that she found ridiculously cumbersome. It was one of many qualities Stiles found endlessly irritating. But that was a whole other debacle that Stiles just didn’t have the energy to deal with at the moment.

       Stiles shoveled the food in his mouth, not really tasting it—though maybe it was better that he didn’t. He rinsed the dishes and dejectedly put them in the sink after realizing the dishwasher was full and clean. Stiles quickly washed his single plate and the two pots he’d used because he was positive that the repetitive bending and stretching was not going to work out well. He trudged up the stairs and collapsed on his bed trying as hard as he could to stop reliving his conversation with the Alpha.

He tried to mask the insecurities and humiliation that arose with the memory by focusing on his schemes for the future. It was petty but it was the best he could do, but after a while even _that_ didn’t suffice. He used the remainder of his energy to imagine the celebration that would be had once he rid the world of the monster. 

Stiles knew he was asking too much for streamers and confetti let alone the prospect of a parade but hey, a boy could dream right? As much as banners with Stiles’ face plastered on them and a national holiday made in his honor were enticing, the scene that kept replaying and lulling Stiles to sleep was his dad smiling and clapping him on the back, leaning down and whispering into Stiles’ ear, “I’m so proud of you, kid.” So it was cliché, and not as glamorous as floats and confetti, but Stiles still entertained the _7th Heaven_ idea because Stiles was an optimist and wanted that sugary sweet ending. He just wanted to feel like he belonged, feel like a real Argent for once. Because, Stiles was a dreamer, cliches be damned.

Stiles awoke close to ten the next morning, rubbing the heels of his palms into his eyes. He had one more day of freedom and as tired as he was, he was not going to waste it. With way more effort than usual, he swung his legs over the side of the bed. Already, he took a break and staring at the toes press into the hardwood floor before pushing on the tops of his knees to stand. He meandered to the bathroom and rummaged through the cabinets. First things first, Advil. Attempting to unscrew the cap took him a few tries, but he was nothing if not a persistent bastard and got it eventually. After knocking two in his mouth, he swallowed them with a hand full of water from the faucet. Showering was probably something he should have done the day or night prior, _but better late than never, right?_ Stiles thought to himself as he reached into the shower and turned on the hot water. As the bathroom began to fill with steam, Stiles stripped himself of his clothes and examined the fading scratches and bruises. His ribcage was a mix of black and yellow splotches. For once in his life, Stiles refrained from prodding the bruises as they were already paining him on their own. Stiles looked at them skeptically, his fingers lightly brushing the edge of them.

He was prone to injuries and he’d memorized the workings of the hospital long before he’d reached puberty. Stiles could patch himself up just as well as the nurses. He knew the difference between a cut that was more prone to infection and what type of sling a dislocated elbow needed and the number of Advil one can _actually_ take in a twenty four hour period. Stiles could tell the difference between a fracture, a break, and a bruised bone without much thought, and he knew how each injury needed to be dealt with.

Stiles was well versed in first aid, which is why he found his current bruises so interesting.

These bruises were intense, and were anything but skin deep. Stiles was pretty confident that he’d bruised two ribs and chipped a third. The only thing that kept him ‘pretty confident’ instead of absolutely sure was the fact that he didn’t need to be hospitalized right now. With the amount of injuries he had, bruised and chipped ribs should be the least of his problems. Yet, not only were ninety percent of all the other injuries healed, but even his ribs, which admittedly still pained him in breathing, had healed somewhat. His entire torso should be black and blue, splotches of grey and purple skin from the slight to moderate internal bleeding; however, they merely ached. The skin stretching over them was already yellowing, on the final stages of healing. _Even the fucking stitches look like they're a least a week old what the fuck._

Stiles shook the thoughts away, too tired to want to deal with them. He gingerly eased himself into the shower and worked on washing out the dirt, leaves, and few insects from his hair and body. He didn’t bother relaxing underneath the stream of hot water in fear of falling asleep standing up. He shut of the water with some reluctance and wrapped himself in a gigantic fuzzy white towel. Stiles had teased Allison for picking them out a few months back: _Al, why do we need towels large enough for Big Foot? Are these the pelts of  the Abominable Snowman?_ Stiles retracted those words now as he waddled down the hall in a fuzzy towel cocoon.

He laid himself on top of the covers of his bed as he slowly debated changing or not. He eventually managed to get a pair of sweats on but the thought of trying to find a shirt was too much for Stiles. He crawled in under the covers and felt his head sink into the plush pillow. His eyelids instantly fluttering closed for a moment. So what if it was 10 o’clock in the morning, Stiles lacked any will to actually get up and get going. He laid there contently for twenty minutes before finally forcing himself to actually do something productive. He threw on an old t shirt, which he was pretty sure was clean—its smell didn’t cause him to gag which was good enough for him. He took off the sweats he’d just put on and switched them for a pair of old jeans, worn almost threadbare around the knees and ankles.  He struggled down the stairs, attempting to put on a pair of navy Converse at the same time, which certainly wasn't the wisest considering recent events. Against all odds, he made it to the kitchen intact. 

He turned on the coffeepot and slumped on one of the kitchen stools and rested his head on the counter. His tattered notebook of schemes sat on the edge of the counter; Stiles pointedly ignored it. Well, he tried. His gaze kept shifting back to the composition book. He outstretched his hand and gripped the edge of the front cover between his middle finger and his thumb. He pulled it in front of himself and flipped it open. While it had only been a few days since he’d been zealously writing the plans down, he looked back at them as if they were from long ago, reminiscing in the yester years. His eyes fell upon Plan #9. Oh how he had a soft spot for #9. Darts galore.

Stiles couldn’t help but reformulate #9 as he had some new information regarding his target—His target, otherwise known (by Stiles anyway) as Alpha Douchebag Hale. Just after one—conscious—encounter, Stiles already knew how his plan would fail, and what he needed to do to make it work. He smirked as he envisioned the rearranging of the trigger. While it was only his imagination, Stiles was positive it would work. He had a gut feeling that made him swell with eagerness and confidence. He shook his head slightly as the idea continued to nudge him, his heart picking up pace with excitement. 

 _The guy would totally fall for it and you know it. Redesigning the plan wouldn’t take very long and the actual set up isn’t that strenuous…you could actually make the appointment you promised you’d pencil him in for. It’d wipe that cocky grin off his face. You KNOW it would work…_  

Stiles groaned at his inner monologue, irritated that he both agreed and disagreed so passionately with it. He closed the notebook and grabbed a coffee mug from the top shelf. He absentmindedly poured himself a cup, his gaze betraying him as it strayed to the devil’s advocate. The smirk that spread across his face sealed the deal. His mind was made up, whether he agreed or not, he knew he was going to give Plan #9 a go.

He sloshed some of the coffee as he haphazardly pushed it towards the opposite side of the counter. He jogged to his stool and flipped open to Plan #9. He read it over once more before flipping to the next blank page. He quickly headed it Plan A and put a subheading of FAILED beneath it. He quickly jotted down the pros and cons of the event, and stated what he’d learned from the experiment. He turned to the next page and headed it “Plan B: Revision of #9” He left a space below for the future subheading. He quickly listed the supplies he’d need and the gist of the plan. On the side margin he marked some defining characteristics of Hale, and how he planned to pin them against him. He drew three sketches of new possible placements of the traps, and scribbled multiple lists of what would be the bait.

What would an obnoxious Alpha want? Now that was the question. His ideas bounced from a raw steak, to Thumper the rabbit. He burst out laughing as Little Red Riding Hood popped into his head. Stiles chuckled to himself until he realized maybe, he could give Hale just that.

 


	3. Twining

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much again you guys! All the kudos and bookmarks and comments! y'all are wonderful! 
> 
> So on this chapter **be warned there is Emotional/Verbal Abuse (Parent to Child) shortly followed by a panic attack** so if that is triggering just kinda skim the scene right after Allison and Stiles get back from their hike. It isn't too long and not too horrible but I figured better safe than sorry!
> 
> thanks again! and enjoy! Next chapter should be up Sunday!

 “Wakey Wakey!” Allison jumped on top of Stiles’ bed and landed on him in a full body slam. Stiles groaned, in what Allison thought was overly dramatic, but Allison was also unaware of the two bruised ribs Stiles had acquired in her absence. Stiles forced the nausea away as he tried to return the aggressive hug.

 

“Hey Al—“ Stiles squinted up as the sunlight poured in. “You opened the curtains...really?” She smiled wide, laughing a heavy exhale.

"Not that it woke you up. I had to result to drastic measures..." Allison shrugged while laying sprawled atop Stiles. Sometimes Stiles swore that Allison was the spawn of Satan himself, but the obvious conclusion that he too came from Lucifer’s loins was something he wasn’t quite ready to handle yet. “Stiles, I’m gone for how long and you only care about the sunshine? Hmmph!” She feigned irritation but Stiles grabbed her and pushed her off the bed. She landed with a thump and a muttered string of curse words. Stiles laughed as he sat up, the twinge in his side slowly fading.   

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Stiles looked down on her as she laid sprawled out on the floor,  “So how’d it go?” Allison smiled and turned her head to face Stiles.

“Really well actually, well obviously we missed you terribly, but yeah. Really fun.”

“Minus the beef jerky and the fact that Gerard killed Bambi’s mom?” Allison rolled her eyes and the smiled left her face. She shook her head and replied only half annoyed,

“Really? We’re gonna bring that up?” Stiles laughed then waited for her to continue. “But yeah _besides_ that, it was actually nice. I got to work on dagger throwing, which I sucked at by the way, but by the end I actually nailed a couple bull’s eyes. We went on a few hikes and Dad pointed out some different types of bane, they’re like cousins to wolfsbane, they aren’t as strong as wolfsbane but if you’re in a pinch they’ll come in handy. Grandpa killed a deer. I wish I could tell you the purpose.”

“Al, we’ve been hunting animals since like forever. Why does that bother you?”

“We’re hunters with the purpose of hunting evil. He killed a deer, Bambi’s mom, for apparently no reason…”

“Told you he’s a creep.”

“Stiles…” Allison rolled her eyes, moving her gaze to the ceiling, not wanting to start an argument, but couldn't help her initial confrontation. 

“What? I’m just sayin’. You call him Grandpa all you want, but he’s a creep one way or the other.” Allison rolled her eyes again and laughed as Stiles shook his head at her. “You think I’m messing around; I’m serious…” Stiles’ tone only made Allison laugh harder. He’d missed the sound. Allison had missed it too. No one could make her laugh like Stiles could. His humor was goofy and dark and always a surprise. She had made a few jokes, or tried to rather, with her cousin on the trip but she'd been met with an awkward chuckle. Neither Allison nor Stiles were like the other Argents. Allison definitely could see the division between them and the others, and even so she noticed that most of the time she voluntarily joined Stiles on the side of other. She honestly didn't understand why they excluded him. So he wasn't the best hunter? So what. He certainly was not the first Argent whose expertise was strategies. Allison pretended not to see the divide in the hopes it would fade over time. All teenagers had tension with their family right? 

Sometimes she worried Stiles thought she didn't notice the difference in the way they treated the twins. As much as Stiles painted her as loving the old man, that was  _not_  the truth. Gerard made her extremely uncomfortable a lot of the time, but she could never put her finger on why. She certainly never experienced any of the exclusionary treatment Stiles had to endure, so she admitted that he had a stronger sentiment towards the whole thing. Still, there were times Allison felt--she didn't want to call it fear--but she worried someone might overhear them talk ill of Gerard. She didn't know how to tell Stiles this without completely proving his argument. He won enough of their petty arguments on his own; he certainly didn't need Allison's help. 

She pushed the thoughts aside, rolling on her side, looking at Stiles intently. 

“What are you doing today, Stiles?” Allison said suddenly serious. A flash of fear erupted in Stiles, and he forced himself not to glance over at the composition book tucked into the edge of his nightstand. He’d been working on his new revised version of #9, now Plan C (he decided to skip the letter B, because when he'd undoubtedly be celebrated for his victory, he didn't want to have to deal with copyright issues with the contraceptive company) all day the day before and well into the night. He looked at his phone to see it was close to noon on Monday. He smiled at her and hoped she didn’t see the panic that was briefly written across his face. 

“Eh, nothing really. Why?” She shrugged rolling back to look at the ceiling, and Stiles relaxed immediately.

“I was wondering if you wanted to go on a hike? Visit Moe? We haven’t seen him since before Spring Break…” Stiles didn’t have to think to know a hike with his sister was just what he wanted. He smiled at her and gave an energetic nod. She stood up from her laying position and stretched her arms. “Want to leave in 30?”

“Sounds great.” He stretched too, and yawned as Allison made her way to the door. “Hey, Allison.” She stopped half way in and out of the doorway. “About…Dad?”

“I talked to him, but you might want to too. But he and Mom are passed out now, so it can probably wait until after the hike.” Her words were reassuring and Stiles relaxed. She bounded down the hallway while Stiles began to get ready. He quickly showered and dressed only needing fifteen of his given thirty. He jogged down to his Jeep and hopped in. He cursed as he saw his blood encrusted hoodie folded neatly in the backseat. _Sick bastard,_  Stiles thought while imagining Derek delicately fold the blood soaked article. 

He had meant to have taken that out before. He reached around and quickly shoved it underneath the driver’s seat and waited for Allison to come out. Stiles fiddled with the radio as his thoughts roamed to the red hoodie beneath him. He knew he wanted the red hoodie for his plot—needed it—but he wasn’t sure if he was committed to it being covered in blood, his blood, or if he was willing to just buy himself a new one. His thoughts were jarred as Allison climbed into the passenger side. She changed the radio station and Stiles opened his mouth to protest. 

“Stiles, if you quote Supernatural to me right now I will strangle you.” Stiles closed his mouth; his witty response dying in his throat.

“Meanie.” Allison laughed in reply. Stiles drove them to the opposite side of the forest near the West side of Basin Falls, a small town just west of Pinnacles National Park. He parked in the small parking lot for tourists, though the lot was now empty, minus the Jeep. Stiles hopped out and Allison walked around the hood to meet up at his side. They walked to the edge of the forest and began on the old trail for nature enthusiasts. The trail was worn from use; the skinny path was completely hard packed dirt with no hope of any new growth sprouting from it. Allison led the way and they continued on the beaten path for close to 30 minutes until they came to a familiar fallen tree. Stiles and Allison hopped over it easily, each patting it, saying “Mornin’ Moe!’ They’d named it as kids when one day it appeared obstructing their path. They always talked about the hike as Moe’s Place.

Their pace increased as they continued downhill. Stiles began counting under his breath unnecessarily, as he eyed the trees next to him. Stiles slowed his counts as he approached twenty before he recognized the change in the dirt. Stiles toed the dirt with his shoe and saw it disappear in the underbrush. He squatted down and pushed the bushes aside. Down below was about a four foot drop to a ledge in the hill side, and five feet from there another ledge until there was a nice slope that reached the forest floor, covered in dry redwood needles and some California poppies scattered sparsely between the trees. Stiles hopped down the little incline and continued with the quick momentum to the bottom of the hill. The two levels of forest were separated by close to thirty vertical feet. He looked up a good fifteen feet to see Allison bounding down the dirt side of the hill, having already jumped off the ledge stepping-stones. The area had been formed from a landslide fifty or so years prior, but Stiles and Allison had found it on one of their many adventures in their youth. Well, more like Stiles found it, as he tripped and rolled down the side of the hill.

The area had become their own little sanctuary.  It was the only destination of Stiles' numerous runaway attempts. Though many of Stiles' runaway attempts turned into him taking a long hike in these neck of the woods before returning home. If one didn't count those as runaways, then Stiles had only _truly_ runaway three times. Once when he was nine, staying in this part of the woods for a day and a half, again when he was twelve, living in a hollowed redwood for the better part of a week, and a third when he was fourteen, staying only for a night before he would have moved on to catch his train to San Francisco, if it wasn’t for Allison, who came and convinced him to come back home. The thought now occurred to Stiles that if he could just stick it out another year it wouldn't be called running away; he’d be 18 and expected to leave. Stiles suddenly felt a pang in his chest, looking over at Allison instinctively.

As much as he was willing and more than ready to leave Basin Falls and never look back, he’d be leaving Allison too. While they hadn’t moved around a lot despite being hunters in a family of hunters, they _were_ pulled out of school a lot—missing a ridiculous amount of days—so it was easy to get behind in school. But Stiles usually found his schoolwork more interesting than anything else, so he’d bring his notebooks along and study at any free interval. Not only had he kept up to date with his studies, he was actually a little ahead. Understandably however, Allison did fall behind. So while the twins were both seventeen going on eighteen, Allison was just entering her junior year while Stiles had just finished his. 

Stiles was excited to go to college and get away from Basin Falls, and while he was sad that Allison would still be here, he couldn’t suppress the thought _“Better her than me.”_

       Allison and Stiles hiked in silence. She peered over at him now and again and could see he was in deep thought. She smiled at him, though he didn’t see it, and let him be alone in his thoughts. She enjoyed that with Stiles. Not many people saw it, but Stiles was two polar opposites. He could talk for _literally_ hours, only stopping to take a breath every once in awhile, but he could also just sit in a comfortable silence and leave you to your own thoughts. She wished Stiles would let more people see the whole Stiles. (She wouldn’t call it the true Stiles, because talkative, bouncing-off-the-walls Stiles was just as real as the quiet, reflective Stiles.) He really only showed one side of himself and while he had friends, lots of them actually, he never really had any close ones. Allison had always just kind of thought Stiles was shy, not outgoing enough to make close connections.

Allison still couldn’t pinpoint why Stiles didn’t have a solid best friend, but she knew it was by his choice. She couldn’t even count on two hands the number of friends Stiles had, but only two really stood out to her, Danny and Lydia. Though, could she really count Lydia? Lydia was _her_ best friend, but they all did normally hung out together in a group of four, so…. But even then, Stiles wasn’t himself, not all of himself anyway. She hoped that when Danny and Stiles hung out one on one that Stiles revealed his spectrum of personality, but she highly doubted it.

Allison looked back over at Stiles and she silenced the sigh that barely escaped her lips. Stiles caught it though and looked up at her inquisitively. She expelled some heavier breaths, playing it off as heavy breathing. Stiles knew the fake she pulled, but didn’t call her on it, and for that Allison was grateful. They continued like this for another half hour before Allison cut it short. Stiles had been lagging behind a bit, maybe it was because he was too caught up in his own thoughts or something, but normally his distracted mind led to Allison having to practically jog to keep up. They circled back, and Allison couldn't help but notice Stiles struggle with the climb back up. 

It was nearly five o’clock by the time Stiles and Allison walked in the door. Stiles could smell cheese wafting from the kitchen. The two kicked off their muddy hiking boots into the bin just outside the door to the garage. Stiles ran a couple steps before jumping and sliding across the hardwood floor in his socks, tempting fate. Allison laughed as she followed him in. Chris was pulling out a casserole dish of macaroni and cheese—Stiles’ favorite—and smiled at the two. Their mother sat on one of the stools and glared at Stiles over her iPad.

“I noticed you couldn’t bother saying hello this morning.” 

“Morning.” Stiles spoke trying to hide the edge in his voice by smirking as he said the word. Mrs. Argent smiled in a way that was anything but comforting. “Sorry, I just…Allison asked to go hiking and I hadn’t seen her in like 5 days and I—“

“It wasn’t five days, and you couldn’t tell her to wait until you greeted your parents?”

“Al said you guys were sleeping after the long trip. I figured you didn’t want to be disturbed. I’m sorry.”

“So, you just took her word for it? Just believed what she said without bothering to check for yourself?” Stiles turned and looked at Allison, the thought passing over his face, _Is this seriously happening right now?_ “Don’t look at your sister for help, Stiles. You have to learn to be a leader and stop following your sister around.”

“Mom, I don’t understand why—“

“Look, Stiles, normally in this family we train the men to be soldiers and the women to be leaders. Now, we figured out a long time ago that the roles would be reversed with you two. Allison is proving herself to be a valuable warrior, yet you seemed to be so co-dependent that you feel the need to hand over your leadership role as well.” Mrs. Argent practically spat the words at Stiles, who could only stare in silence, dumbfounded. “How are you supposed to be a successful leader of this family if you can’t even tell your parents that you’re ‘too sick’ to participate in the our family retreat? You’re not showing promising leadership qualities, but you definitely haven’t proved you hunting prowess either. So what are you planning to do? Continue being useless? What are you going to do? I’m listening Stiles.” Mrs. Argent dropped the iPad onto the counter with a clatter, staring him down. 

His limbs shook uncontrollably, but he tried to conceal it as best as he could. His emotions were too much, flashing through his mind and body too quickly and too intensely. He'd be filled with rage, then shame, or a deadly combination all with in the passing of  few seconds. His heart pounded and he could feel the beat of it in his ears. His throat was dry and even if he had words to say he was struck silent. What did she want to hear? What could he possibly say to please her? He was incapable of forming words in his mind let alone speaking them vocally. His silence was just as unacceptable apparently.  Mrs. Argent swiveled her body so it no longer faced Stiles and began to tap at the glass screen, obviously dismissing him.  Stiles looked to his dad who was furiously scooping ladle fulls of macaroni onto blue plates. 

He wouldn’t meet Stiles’ eyes and that’s when Stiles' anger seemed to melt away. The depression that filled its place was almost overpowering. His vision blurred and he worried he'd collapse right there. The smell of cheese and the steam from the dish caused Stiles throat to swell. His mouth became overly moist as nausea threatened him. He could feel his anger, resentment, and sadness crawl up his throat. He turned around and fled to his bedroom. He’d planned on retreating to his room but it wasn’t until he was shutting the door that he realized he was in one of the upstairs bathrooms.

Thankfully his subconscious led him that way because with in moments he was on his knees, head bent over the toilet. The first wave of nausea came quickly and he felt what little he had to eat that day leave his system. But that was only the first wave, as if his body needed to rid itself of food before it could attempt to rid itself of the onslaught of emotions that had erupted within Stiles. He continued to empty his stomach for what seemed like eternity before he finally collapsed, his hot face against the cold tile.

It was then that he noticed he’d been crying. He could feel the hot tears slide down his face, leaving cooling trails in their wake. He laid like that for a while before pulling himself up and splashing cold water on his face and rinsing out his mouth. His body was overly exhausted and he sat with his back against the door.  He sat there breathing heavily and he noticed the tears had stopped. He wiped their remnants from his face and stood up on shaky legs. He gave himself a minute to lean against the door before allowing himself to retreat to the sanctuary that was his room.

He opened the bathroom door to see Allison slumped against the wall beside the doorway. Her cheeks were stained with black rivers but the tension in her face was gone as she slept with a shuddering breath every so often. Stiles scooped her up and carried her to bed with little protest from his aching body. She shifted once and Stiles was happy she didn’t wake. He laid her down and pulled the sheets over her, making sure they were tucked underneath her arm and that her right foot hung off the side of the bed. He whispered, “Love you, Al.” and kissed her hairline. He knew he should probably wake her so she could wash her face or change from her jeans but he hoped she wouldn’t mind this once.

Stiles walked to his bedroom quietly and sat dejectedly in his desk chair. He flipped open the screen to his laptop for a moment before closing it again. The black and white cover seemed to shine out of the corner of his eye. He leaned forward and grabbed it in his hands, turning it over so the front cover faced him. He bent the edge slightly and let the pages fly underneath his thumb, as one might do when shuffling a deck of cards. He did it again before finally opening it to Plan C, his anger rebuilding, refueling his drive for the cause. It meant so much more now. He smiled as he reread the plan, as if he didn’t already have it committed to memory.

_If we’re saying that the beginning of a week is a Monday, then yeah, these next few days could definitely qualify as ‘next week’, from Sunday’s viewpoint. Yeah, I’ll go with that. Looks like we'll be visiting Mr. Broody Alpha soon._


	4. If an Argent Falls in the woods...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> waahhhh chaptah four! I know I said I'd post sunday but it looks like it's a day early! hope y'all enjoy! PLEASE leave comments tellin' me what you think about it! Thanks so much!
> 
> ~xoxoSasha
> 
> Edit (6/13/16): REVISED

He’d awoken to find Allison squeezed beside him, her arm wrapped around his waist as an anchor so she wouldn’t fall off the edge of the mattress. _Brings a whole new meaning to the word twin bed…_  Her heavy breathing could be considered snoring by some, but Stiles had always found it soothing. He shifted is weight as his stiff limbs ached to stretch and get the blood circulating once more. His slight movement caused Allison to tighten her grip, groaning as she was pulled from sleep. "No, no moving, Stiles."

Stiles acquiesced for sometime before having to disrupt her again as hunger got the best of him. She had followed him down to the kitchen with only mild objection.   

They’d eaten breakfast together in silence, but it was somewhat comfortable as they both decided no to bring up a certain elephant in the room. Because Stiles' life could only be somewhat peaceful for so long, Mrs. Argent made an appearance as Stiles was mid bite. With a sigh of immense relief, Stiles realized that she hadn't come for him and that she was, on the contrary, hellbent on ignoring him for the rest of his existence. Her eyes glanced over him with an expertly crafted look of indifference as she retrieved her iPad from the counter. Stiles expected no apology, and received none, which was a surprise only to Allison. She watched and waited expectantly, her eyes following her mother's every movement throughout the kitchen. Stiles focused on the veins in the marble, not able to stomach Allison's betrayal and anger flush her face for when she was undoubtedly disappointed. It was only as his mother exited the room that he stopped pushing around his oatmeal and quickly finished the few remaining spoonfuls.

Soon the bar stool gave a short screech across the tile as he quickly got up to wash his bowl and spoon.  Allison watched quietly as he placed them on the drying rack, giving a sweet smile at his quick wave goodbye as he raced up the stairs. She scrapped the majority of her uneaten breakfast into the garbage and carelessly threw the bowl into the sink. Three steps up the stairs, she turned around and grabbed the bowl out of the sink, rinsed and put it in the dishwasher at the thought of Stiles being blamed for her small act of retaliation. Still, Allison slammed the dishwasher door with more force than necessary.

 

Stiles was haphazardly throwing his supplies into his backpack, including but not limited to his notebook, weapons, darts, his laptop, and a wad of crumpled dollar bills. He smiled at a surprised looking Allison as they passed on the stairs as he quickened his pace to his Jeep. Reaching under his own seat, his fingers felt for the soft and familiar material before grasping the straying threads and pulling out his ripped and stained sweatshirt. He threw it into the back without a further look at it, trying to ignore the hairs that were now standing on the back of his neck. He revved the engine and Allison’s radio station was blaring from the day prior. Smirking, he quickly changed stations as he continued on his way to the preserve.

He drove slowly, in absolutely no rush, and managed to stretch the time getting there from the usual twenty to about a solid forty-five. He’d taken back roads and deviated from his route multiple times, enjoying himself by taking in the scenery and listening to music. He finally parked at the edge of the preserve, pulling out all his supplies. While he had plenty of time, if he wanted to have the plan ready to go by Thursday, he need to get phase 1 done by the end of today.

What was nice about Phase 1 is that is had little effort coming from Stiles’ end. He grabbed his stuff and hiked out to the clearing he’d chosen less than a week prior and dumped the bag at the foot of a rock. He puttered around measuring distances and climbing trees to check vantage points. He jotted things down in his notebook. Stiles looked around every now and then, keeping an eye out for the Alpha. He knew he was being watched. He knew it for a fact, and glad for it. _Part A of Phase 1 of Plan C equals CHECK!_ Stiles continued to play the cautious, oblivious role he’d cast himself in as he fumbled around. He was elated at the fact that Mr. Broody McBroody Pants didn’t show his face. _Part B of Phase 1 of Plan C equals Checkity Check!_ Only one final Part and Phase One would be completed. After another hour and a half of preparing for Plan #9, Stiles began to pack up his things at about noon. He took his time gathering his supplies and notes and attempted to shove it all in his backpack. The zipper just wouldn’t quite zip all the way…oh well. Stiles threw it over his back and while hopping over the rock, the pack unzipped and its contents spilled onto the forest floor. Well, damn.

Stiles swore aloud, quickly scooping up the numerous loose leaf pages and darts. He not-so-accidentally happened to miss a page that fluttered away. _Part C of Phase 1 of Plan C equals Checkity Check Check!_ He repacked his things, and while only a piece of binder paper lighter, the zipper closed with ease. He, seemingly angry, threw his stuff into his backpack and trudged off in the direction of his car, which was parked in the same place as his last two meetings. He continued the act of oblivious Neanderthal until he was ten miles from the forest. Plan C was all about playing to Mr. Alpha’s haughty, know-it-all self. Act like an idiot, give him the plan for Plan #9, then SURPRISE that isn’t the plan at all. And to think Stiles had come up with this after only one meeting with Hale.

He drove into the downtown part of Basin Falls to the town library, pulling into to park in the diagonal spots in the back. After quickly zipping up his backpack, he tossed it over his shoulder and let it thud to the floor of his backseat. Carrying only the notebook and the maps of the preserve, he tucked them under his arm as he walked to the library’s entrance.

The library was pretty large for a small town. While there had been budget cuts all over, it seemed like the library had somehow made it through the recession with minimal damages. The public computers were definitely outdated but still functional, but the plethora of books for the most part remained up-kept. Books lined the walls as well as the numerous aisles of shelves, with small isolated cubicles to work as well as large tables in groups of three or four. Stiles waved to the librarian, who greeted him with a warm smile, and headed to his back table. He quietly opened his notebook and began going over every part of Phase 2, the final Phase.

If all went according to plan, it should go down on Thursday. He planned on leaving his house at about 1am Thursday morning, to begin setting things up, then leaving and coming back at about 4am and setting up the scheme Derek was expecting. Then he would hide and wait him out.

But there were still a lot of details for Stiles to work out. Where was he going to hide? How was he going to hide? What could he get to mask his smell? Was leaving and coming back a good idea or would Derek notice it? Should he set up Wednesday night and just sleep in his hideout until morning or just do all the setup that morning?

Stiles jotted all his thoughts down to try and straighten them out. He made lists upon lists as his thoughts rushed at a hundred miles an hour. He hadn’t been this determined before. He’d been excited and persistent sure, but now it was different. He wasn’t going to lie to himself and say that this wasn’t to prove something to his parents, that it was to prove something to himself. He was doing this purely to spite them, to rub in their faces how wrong they’d always been. Stiles had tried not to think about it like that but no thought had ever felt so true. He’d thought about all the times they’d put him down and tried to force him to be a little Argent warrior, and how they’d ridiculed him when he didn’t fit the mold. This was to prove himself, to prove that he could be what they wanted, but on his own terms.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Allison was still in yesterday’s dirty jeans when Stiles bounded past her on the stairs and she had been shocked to seem him run out the door.  She had clambered up the stairs and ripped off her shirt as she jogged down the hallway. Kicking her bedroom door shut behind her as she threw her old clothes into the hamper. She didn't bother with a new bra as she changed shirts and quickly threw on a pair of clean underwear and some tattered jean shorts. She tripped over her left Converse and grabbed it as she looked for its mate. Precious seconds were ticking by and she ended up throwing the abandoned left back into her closet. She jerked on some slip on's as she hopped down the stairs. When Chris asked where she was going she was silent as she grabbed her keys off the hook, letting the door close behind her without any explanation.

Her seat belt fought her as it refused to be untangled and locked twice before allowing her to buckle up. A string of four letter words bounced off the walls of her car as she threw it into drive. She rolled through a stop sign, breaking and making a halfhearted attempt at stopping while in the middle of the deserted residential intersection before continuing on. She bit the inside of her lip until it bled when she thought about the night before and caught herself inching over 45 while barreling down the neighborhood streets. _Forget it, Allison. Not now, you have to be calm if you want to calm Stiles down_. Getting a reign on herself, she calmly drove out to the West side of the preserve, still making it in record time. She swore underneath her breath as she slowed down in the empty lot, Stiles' Jeep nowhere in sight. She couldn’t see his blue baby, but disregarded it. If Stiles didn’t want to be found, he wouldn’t be, but it didn’t mean she was just going to give up either. 

She hopped out of her car and suddenly regretted her choice of ballet flats as footwear. She hadn't even thought when she grabbed them, the fastest thing to throw on. She had been thinking of ease and speed to put on, not hiking durability. She muttered a heartfelt, 'Fuck' as she locked her car and began making her way to the trail. She didn’t bother calling out Stiles’ name. He had a good head start on her, and wouldn’t answer even if he did hear her. She knew that once she was with him face to face he’d talk, but not before. She tried to maneuver the path quickly but all the loose stones and roots seemed to have grown over night, that or she was finally aware of their presence now that she was practically barefoot. She hopped over the log and began counting to reach their secret passage to the lower level of the forest. However, Stiles had always been the one to find it, and while Allison had been confident that she knew its location just as well as Stiles, she was sadly mistaken.

Even as she counted she knew it was pointless. Stiles didn’t even have a perfect number. It was normally in the low 20s, high teens. But even that didn’t hold any substance since Stiles increased or decreased his counting speed based upon where he was on the trail. Allison reached twenty one and approached the brushes on the side of the trail.

They looked similar, but not quite. She pushed them aside only to confirm it wasn’t the right ledge. She looked further, but couldn’t see all the way down.

“Stiles?” She shouted and her voice echoed through the woods. She got no response so she continued on. Unbeknownst to her, she had actually passed the correct entrance by nearly ten feet on her first check, but she was now nearly fifty yards from the original descent point. She continued hiking, and she couldn’t help but think of the night before, the thing that started this whole mess.

She balled her fists as she walked as she remembered her own reaction. Her mother had just erupted, belittling Stiles, ripping him to shreds. And she had stood there silent. She was in such disbelief at her mother’s words that speaking literally escaped her. She was so focused on maintaining that it was real, that it was really happening that she hadn’t come to Stiles defense at all. She’d looked to her dad, waiting for him to intervene, to defend Stiles for her, but she saw him nod. He had nodded in agreement! Allison’s world had gone silent. Her mother’s words were drowned out and her world seemed to slow. She’d always known her mom could be a little extreme--the first word that came to mind when Allison thought of her was intense--but this was on uncalled for, it was insane.

She’d felt so betrayed. Here she was, just hours before lamenting that only the family could see Stiles’ true brilliance and success, and yet their own mother couldn’t see it. She felt even more betrayed as her dad sided with her. Couldn’t he see that she was being malicious and just absolutely absurd? She’d always trusted her dad to balance her mother. She’d only made eye contact with her father once during that whole attack. She had opened her mouth in a silent scream, her eyes wide in horror. Her father had looked down after that, suddenly engrossed with serving up dinner, like it was just any other night.

Allison felt sick to her stomach as she continued in the forest. Tears were welling in her eyes as she continued hiking, repeatedly calling out Stiles’ name against her better judgement.

What made her even sicker, sick to the point she had to lean against the bark of tree to suppress the nausea, was Stiles. Stiles, who had said nothing to defend himself, who had looked to Allison for help and was given none. Stiles, who barred himself in the bathroom, sick to his stomach, crying and refusing to let anyone hear him, muffling his sobs. Stiles, who even in this state of attack and betrayal, had picked Allison up and carried her to bed, had tucked her in and made sure she was as comfortable as possible.

Allison’s anger, sadness, and panic sent her marching faster, too focused on the end goal—to find Stiles—that the act of finding the path down was forgotten. About thirty-five minutes further into her search she realized her folly—she must have missed it by miles. She picked the next shrub and pushed it aside, not caring that it wasn’t even close to the preferable one; she figured at this point there was no point in bothering.

She looked down and it seemed just as good as any other hill. Unlike a majority of the hill slide, it wasn’t _completely_ a straight drop to the floor; there was a ledge about six feet straight down but then dirt slope to the bottom.

Only having one ledge made it a little more intimidating, but Allison was beginning to panic at not being able to find Stiles. She was suddenly overly aware that she hadn’t brought her crossbow or even a dagger to defend herself. And this was the woods; she knew only too well that mountain lions and coyotes were the least of her concerns. She shouted Stiles’ name again, and was met with only the sounds of the forest. She pushed the shrubs aside and leapt down to the ledge.

Unfortunately, the drop was much higher than she initially thought. She’d been predicting five to six feet from her perspective, but it was closer to nine. She landed on the edge of the ledge hard, and the softened dirt gave way underneath her. She had a moment of fear where she tried to regain her balance, but there was no stopping her momentum. She tumbled forward and somersaulted down the side of the hill, choking on dirt as she screamed. In the terrifying tumbled, she felt her left shoulder crack, and pain swelled through her body. It ended as quickly as it had started and she was resting her cheek on the dirt ground of the forest floor. For a split second, she was overcome with a sense of relief--she was alive and conscious, barely--but this relief quickly ceased as the rest of the pain hit her all at once. She groaned as attempted to roll onto her back, but was stopped at the burning tug and tear in her leg. She looked down to see a branch shoved through her calf, as well as a dislocated kneecap. She looked away in horror as her legs turned purpled with the promise of some horrific bruises to come. She tasted blood in her mouth and she cried out Stiles’ name again, something between a curse and a prayer. She heard footsteps approaching and a muttered curse.

“Stiles?” Her head swelled as she tried to look up, her vision blurry and a wave of vertigo hitting her hard.  
“No, I’m not Stiles, I’m here to help though. It’s going to be okay.” The voice was comforting and soft. She squinted up and saw a fuzzy outline of man. He bent down slowly , squatting down next to her. A cautious hand reached out as he stroked her hair, pushing it out of her face . “Can you see me?” It took a moment for Allison to register the words. She squinted again and his face became clearer. She nodded and he smiled in response. “Okay, that’s good. Now, we’re too far away for me to take you to the hospital, but I can help you okay?" The kid sounded a bit nervous, but Allison couldn't help but trust him immediately. He was right after all; they were very far from help and a park ranger could take forever to find them. "You have a dislocated kneecap, and I need to pop it back into place." Allison realized she had zoned out and feared maybe her disorientation was a little more drastic than she had originally thought. 

"It’s going to hurt, but I need to do it.” He spoke methodically and calmly and Allison could already noticed the panic in her chest dwelling down. Several seconds passed before she realized he was waiting for a response. While everything he said was a statement, he waited for Allison’s approval after each sentence. She nodded as he held her hand. He gave it a squeeze then let go. He smiled at her and Allison felt a wave of warm comfort flood through her and found herself returning the expression.

“Okay, I’m going to pop it back in three, two, one—“ Allison cried out in pain,a few defiant tears streaming down her face, but the initial pain dulled. She gasped and let out a shuddered breath. With the pain came a bit of a gripping back to reality.   
“I’m okay.” She said in an exhale.   
“You are. You’re going to be just fine. Now, you have a bit of a nasty…um scratch on your leg—“  
“There’s… half of a …  tree... sticking out of it.” She choked out as she took deep breaths.  
“Ah okay, so you looked at that. Okay, well I’m going to pull it out okay? Then I’m going to wrap it up with my shirt and we’ll get you out of here. Okay?” Allison nodded and was determined not to cry this time. “Do you want me to count?” Allison shook her head ‘no’. He nodded and immediately pushed the stick through. Allison bit down on the inside of her cheek; her mouth already tasted too much of blood and dirt to recognize if she’d drawn blood.  
The guy pulled off his shirt and ripped it into strips and wrapped them tightly around Allison’s calf. He secured it with a knot and stretched her leg out.

“Okay, worst part’s done! You’re okay, see?”  
“My shoulder…” Allison mumbled  
“Huh?”  
“My shoulder. I think it’s dislocated too.” The guys eyebrow shot up and he nodded.  
“You’re going to have to sit up for that one, okay?” He dug his hand underneath her to support her back as he helped her sit up. She winced in pain but otherwise remained silent. She leaned forward, ready. “Okay, on three?” She nodded. “Okay, one, two, three!” He pushed the top of her shoulder as she resisted. There was a crunch, as the bones were shoved back into place. She couldn’t deny that one a yell as she cursed loudly. She sucked air, her lungs greedily accepting the oxygen. She reverted back to her slow deep inhales as her heart rate slowly decreased to normal.

Her eyes were closed but she felt fabric being pressed against her lips. Her eyes fluttered open, to see that the man was wiping the blood and dirt from her face. His brown eyes lit up as he looked at her. She smiled weakly in response.

“Have you seen my brother?” She prided herself that she was able to ask without gasping.  
“Stiles?” The brown eyed boy asked. She nodded. “No. I haven’t seen anyone around here today. Is he lost? Or--"  
“He stormed out of the house this morning. I came looking for him and…well you know.” The man nodded solemnly, he rested a hand on her shoulder and she felt the pain welling away.

“Why’d you think he’d be here?” The question caught her off guard even though it wasn’t a huge leap from their conversation. She didn’t notice the young man’s veins turning black as he relieved her pain.

“He always comes here when he’s upset. When we were growing up, this was his favorite place. Still is I think. Maybe I missed him.” She sighed as only a soft dulling pain remained. “Thank you by the way.”

“No problem! I’m just glad I was around to help.” His smile was warm and Allison couldn’t help but feel safe. “C’mon let’s get you to the hospital.” He stood up then squatted down scooping her Allison up bridal style. “I’m sorry, I should have asked.” She shook her head,  
“It’s fine.” He seemed to climb the steep incline with unbelievable ease, and a nagging thought tugged Allison’s brain. She pushed the thought away as she rested her head against the young man’s shoulder. He walked at a fast pace and Allison was lulled by the rhythm. It wasn’t long until they had hopped over the fallen tree, and then broke out into the parking lot.

“Is that your car?” He asked.  
“Yeah.” The nagging thought was practically kicking Allison as she was pretty much certain she knew her doubts to be true.  
_Why was he in the woods if he doesn’t have a car? Because he lives in the woods._  
_Why does he live in the woods? I don’t know, maybe he’s outdoorsy?_  
_Or he’s a werewolf. Which would explain how he lifted you from an odd angled squat then scaled a thirty foot cliff while carrying you without so much as breaking a sweat. But hey, maybe he’s just outdoorsy._

 

The scarier thought was that she didn’t seem to care. She clutched onto him as he approached the car, and wanted nothing more than to keep holding him. He set her down gently on the hood of the car. She pulled out her keys from her pocket and clumps of dirt tumbled out with them. She thought about the inevitable bruises of the indented keys made against her hipbone and couldn't decide if she was grateful for the skin tight shorts that kept her from losing her keys or not. 

After unlocking the door, he picked her back up and placed her in the passenger seat with gentle care. He closed her door and then walked around the car and got into the driver’s side. He started the car and pulled out of the parking lot with ease. He drove carefully, and constantly turned his head, checking on Allison.

She smiled suddenly, a blush coming to her cheeks. He looked over and smiled,  
“What?”  
“I think we should be on a first name basis, or any name basis for that matter.” He laughed as he turned onto the main road. “I’m Allison.” His smile never left his face as he met her eyes in the rear-view mirror.   
“I’m Scott.”

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Stiles was just packing up his belongings when his phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled out his phone, and glanced at the screen.

To: Stiles  
Frm: Allison  
_Went looking for you in the preserve. Didn’t find you. Hope youre OK. I’m at starbucks with friends if you want to hang out? lov you_

Stiles sighed. He should have known Allison would have gone looking for him. He should probably meet her at Starbucks, but he just really didn’t want to.

To: Allison  
Frm: Stiles  
_hey Al sorry shuld have told you where I was going. At library. How to train a dragon tonight?_

He figured a movie night with their all time favorite kids movie would make up for his lack of social involvement and let her know he wasn’t upset. He got a smiley face and a ‘yay!’ from Allison seconds later. The upper left hand corner of his phone showed that it was close to four o’clock. _Damn, that went by fast. How long was Allison looking for me?_

He quickly finished stacking his belongings and carried them under his arm. He nodded to the librarian on his way out and she smiled fondly at him. He walked to the back of the parking lot and jumped into his Jeep. He started the engine but sat in park. He really didn’t want to go home.

Like really

Did. Not. Want. To Go. Home.

But he wasn’t really sure what else he could do. He didn’t have anywhere else to go. He could always go back to the preserve, but he couldn’t keep going back. It would get more and more suspicious. But…he could always move the plans up…they were his plans after all. And everything was ready, pretty much.

Yeah, he could do it.

Even so, he still had some time to kill. He couldn’t even think about setting up until close to midnight, and even that was a little early. But going home could still be pushed off.

He drove for less than a minute before his nerves were on edge. The sudden irritability that had descended on him was all consuming. He gripped the steering wheel tightly and he stared at his white knuckles. It wasn’t until he heard the booming bass of the car next to him that he’d realized what was wrong. He rolled his eyes— _Really, Stiles? Are we this much of a diva?_ —and turned the radio on.

It wasn’t too long until he reached the Starbucks. He parked near the front and shot off a quick text to Allison.

To: Allison  
Frm: Stiles  
_hey I’m at Starbucks, missy. I think I hear a caramel latte calling my name!_

Stiles hadn’t even unbuckled his seat belt before his phone vibrated again.

To: Stiles  
Frm: Allison  
_oh, actually. Just left! Sorry :(_

Stiles frowned but had his heart set on a caffeinated beverage that would do anything but calm his energetic nerves. He climbed out and walked towards the door. He was in line when he saw the profile of his sister’s face through the glass-paned wall. She was smiling but looking around with a look of worry on her face. He saw her eyes widen and he followed her gaze to his blue Jeep. She turned around and grabbed a tan skinned hand. A browned hair smiling boy followed her lead as they turned down the street and hurriedly walked away.

Huh. That was…Odd.

Stiles was too distracted by the fact that Allison was sneaking around to notice that the guy she was with was wearing one of his old shirts, or that Allison not only was walking with a limp, but with a huge white bandage wrapped around her calf. He smiled to himself then ordered his drink.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Stiles drove home shortly after and parked in the garage. He climbed out and tossed his empty coffee cup into the trashcan by the door. He walked down the hallway and through the kitchen, which was a horrible decision, really. Had he not learned anything from the day before?

“Look, who’s home…” His mother bared her teeth in a predatory snarl—no one would have called it a smile. Stiles was cursing himself internally, trying to figure how to respond. He didn’t get a chance, though. His mother stood and strode out of the room, leaving Stiles alone with his father who was peeling potatoes over a bowl on the counter. Memories of the gut wrenching conversation from yesterday filled the air, and Stiles found the nausea creeping up on him again. His face was flushed an angry, embarrassed red. Stiles saw Gerard, smirking over the sink, though his back was facing him. His father looked up,  
“Stiles…”  
“Dad…Can we not? Yeah, thanks.” Stiles turned around and practically fled the room. _Probably going to get shit for that too._ He thought to himself.

He collapsed on his bed and exhaled. He sat in a lonely silence for ages. He heard the sounds of the kitchen from down below. He looked over and it was nearly 6:30pm. _I’m going to have to sit through dinner with these_ …His thought trailed off, even calling them assholes in his head didn’t feel right. They were family, didn’t that mean you couldn’t feel fine calling them assholes? Maybe they could be assholes, but you just couldn’t call them that (even in your thoughts), or maybe you loved them anyway...or maybe you don't owe them anything...

Stiles covered his face with his pillow in a pathetic, eighth-hearted attempt at suffocating himself. It picked at Stiles again and again. His angry reserve from before had diminished and sadness had taken its place. He swallowed once then sat up.

_Whatever. Get over it. Just suck it up through dinner, and you can take it out on Hale. Then you’ll have Hale’s furry head on a platter, and it’ll prove once and for all that you’re not useless. Stick to the plan._

He heard the door close and he looked out his bedroom window to see Allison’s car parked in the driveway. He heard talking downstairs and finally approaching footsteps. He laid back down and grabbed a book from the shelves behind him and faked reading.

“Hey, Stiles! Dinner’s almost ready!” He dropped the book to his side and sat up, then followed Allison down to the table.

Stiles for a split second thought he could be his normal self, amiably and let the jabs roll off his back. But that fantasy was shattered after insult number two. He’d gone rigid and bit the inside of his cheek. Stiles sat through the rest of dinner in silence. He didn’t listen. He didn’t respond. He ate. He took in his plate. He began kitchen cleanup. Allison came in behind him and squeezed him around his shoulders, which reminded him…

“Hey, Al. Um Can I talk to you for a moment? Upstairs?” He saw a flash of panic spread across her face. She nodded and tried to hide it with a smile but she quickly followed Stiles up the stairs. _Idiot, she thinks you’re going to confront her about secret-boy._

He led her to his room and shut the door. He looked down to see she was wearing a pair of his oversized sweatpants. He didn’t think much of it and continued on.

“Um. So, can we not do movie night tonight? I just kind of need some time away from here…I was going to go spend the night at my friend, Isaac’s, place. Umm, you know him right? He was in my chemistry class?” _Abort details, that’s suspicious!_ “But I don’t want to ask Mom and Dad, if you hadn’t noticed they’re kinda…”

“Yeah.” She finished his thought and she smiled shyly. “Don’t worry. I’ll cover for you! Who knows I might ask the same from you some day…” She chuckled, but Stiles could hear the seriousness of her tone. _I wonder if I’d picked up on that if I hadn’t already known_...Stiles mused. He'd like to think yes. 

“You got it sis!” They both walked down stairs and finished cleaning the kitchen talking about nonsense, bickering over television shows and proper pop culture references. Stiles laughed loud at one of Allison’s supporting facts and gently slugged her in the shoulder. She gasped and dropped the plate she’d been holding. It hid the side of the counter, but only chipped at the edge as it clattered to the floor.

“Oh my god! Allison! Are you okay? I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean—“  
“Stiles, it’s fine. You—um—scared me is all. I’m fine.” Stiles eyed her warily.  
“You sure?” Stiles’ hand stroked her opposite shoulder.  
“Yeah, sorry, just a little jittery, I guess.” Stiles nodded in response, pushing the nagging feeling he had to side. He knew Allison was hiding something and while that plus the not so coincidental “secret-boy” made Stiles wonder just what she'd actually been getting herself into. Stiles had a nagging feeling that maybe Allison was getting more involved with hunters outside the family, _maybe they were pushing her too far...what if they didn't work by a code?_ He tried not to let his mind run away with him.  _Allison can kick werewolf ass and lizard ass_ (Stiles shuddered at the memory of the Kanima attacks that went on last fall), _she can handle that guy and any hunters just fine._

“Hey, what time are you sneaking out?” Allison whispered as she looked around cautiously.  
“Kind of late, I want to get out after everyone’s asleep.”  
“What time are you getting back?” That thought never really occurred to Stiles. He just planned on strolling in once it was finished. He’d be dragging Hale’s body as a prize and he figured that would negate any negative questions about his whereabouts or curfew issues.  
“Uh…early morning. If they find out I’m gone before I get back, which I HIGHLY doubt, just tell them that we’d started the movie, and you fell asleep. They’ll connect the dots that I snuck out after you passed out.”  
“Or I could tell them you went for a morning hike…”  
“Al—“  
“Fine, fine. I’ll throw you under the bus, you masochist.” He rolled his eyes at her. They finished wiping down the counters and headed upstairs. Allison disappeared into her room, and he into his.

The next hours seemed to drag on and yet suddenly it was time, as his phone went off at its 12:15 AM alarm. He crept down the hallways and said a quick by to Allison, who was absorbed in her phone.  Silently tiptoeing downstairs, he made it to the garage without a sound. He didn’t dare use the automatic garage opener. He slowly rolled it up, each click of the wheels sounding like a gong. But he made it up. He got into his Jeep and threw it into neutral, letting it coast down the driveway. He parked, then slowly pulled the garage door back down. _Note to self: no more parking in the garage when secret activities are occurring at night._

Once back in neutral, the Jeep coasted down the street—though less coasting and more Stiles pushing. He only started the engine when he was a good block and a half away. The rest of the drive went by quickly. He reached the preserve and started his hike into the woods. His backpack was over his shoulder and for once in his life he navigated the woods with actual agility. He made it to the clearing in record time.

He began to silently set up the traps. He first set up the trap that wasn’t left behind. He’d purposefully left Plan #9 behind, knowing egotistical, smug Derek wouldn’t be able to help himself but to come and disable the trap he knew was there. He’d smile and mock Stiles as he undid the lever of the three wolfsbane filled darts, only by doing so to set off the other set of three. Stiles was quite pleased with himself, but if it was to all go well, he needed to finish up the second part of the set-up before the first. Derek would be on his way right now, having heard Stiles pull up and hike through the woods, and the plan would still work if he caught Stiles setting up Plan #9, might even be best if that’s what happened, but he couldn’t see Stiles setting up the surprise attack.

Stiles worked as quickly and as silently as possible. He’d finished the string up of both sets when he was pretty sure that he felt eyes on him. He controlled his emotions as best as he could, but didn’t mind letting a little confidence emote off of himself. He finally climbed up the tree and “hid” himself among the branches. It was the same tree he’d been in for the whole net fiasco, but he wouldn’t think of that. He slipped his phone out of his pocket and checked the time: 1:57am. _Right on time._

Stiles didn’t have anything planned to lure Derek out, but he didn’t need to. He was Little Red Riding Hoodie and that was enough to entice the Big Bad Alpha to come out and play. It took thirty four minutes for Derek to emerge from the trees, with a smug grin on his face.

“You know you are definitely the _worst_ hunter, right?” Stiles couldn’t help himself from grinning, but he tried to think of upsetting thoughts, hoping to evoke the right emotions. Derek followed the plan to a T. He approached the decoy trap and quickly unwound the trigger, and looked pretty pleased with himself for all of point five seconds.

The smug look left his faces as the three other darts hit him square in the chest. He stumbled back and roared. His eyes flashed red, and his teeth elongated. _Not long now, until the wolfsbane takes full effect._

He growled again and his clawed hand pulled the darts out. He threw them to the side, then pressed a hand to his chest. He rubbed once then twice until his fangs retracted and his blood red eyes return to their normal hue.

“You little sh…Well, I’ll give you that one. I wasn’t expecting that.” Stiles mouth stood agate from his spot in the tree. _What the fuck. Wolfsbane should mean…_

Running on three hours of sleep from the night before and now going on being awake for twenty six hours, Stiles wasn’t thinking clearly when he jumped down from his perch. His logic (what little he had at the moment) was, if Hale was going to kill him, he could scale the tree just as easily as he could rip Stiles' throat out from five feet away.

“What the fuck? Are you…are you immune to wolfsbane?” Stiles gaped at him. Derek’s mouth twitched at the corner.

“Uh, no. There’s no wolfsbane in these darts, fyi.” Stiles jaw dropped further.  
“You’re full of shit.” Stiles, now feeling incredibly brave, or stupid, stormed past Derek and picked up the six darts, both the decoys and the other ones. “Oh, fuck me…”

“Hey, don’t be too hard on yourself. The whole acting like a complete and total idiot totally got me. Very believable.” Derek wore a shit-eating grin and Stiles just wanted beat it off of him.

“Seriously, when I broke into your car the other day to empty the wolfsbane from the darts, I did it just as a precautionary…good thing too, or I might _actually_ be dead.”

“You? Wha—“ Then Stiles just collapsed into the dirt. He gave up. He laid in the wet leaves, completely still. _The FUCKING radio. I knew I’d left it on. Why didn’t I notice? Urgh… Why didn’t I check the darts? It would have taken two seconds…_

Derek stared down at Stiles, concerned. The self hatred that was flooding the air was enough to make _Derek_ feel sick—which was saying something. Derek felt like he was drowning in depression and anger. While the want to comfort Stiles was almost overwhelming, he didn’t know what to do, so he stayed quiet. It lasted for several more minutes before Stiles finally spoke.

“Fuck you.” The words threw Derek for a loop. Of all the things he’d been anticipating Stiles to say, that was the last thing he’d been expecting. The loud laugh that erupted from him shocked him more than Stiles—and Stiles was incredulous to say the least.

“You’re just lucky I’m not ripping your throat out with my teeth right now. “ Derek said it with a smile still on his face.

“Why would you do that? It’d be doing me a favor.” Stiles deadpanned and was only partially worried that he actually agreed with the statement. Derek’s smile fell. He glared over at Stiles, all kidding vanished. Derek almost reached his arm, as if to touch Stiles in a reassuring way. He jerked his hand back and looked at in distrust a feeling of betrayal surging through him. He cleared his throat and shifted his weight, hoping Stiles hadn’t noticed the previous incident.

“Oh, stop whining. Like your life is so fucking hard.” Derek spat the words, but there wasn’t any venom behind them. He felt a mixture of sadness for the kid pouting at his feet, and anger at himself and his wolf for their shitastic decisions. The nerve to comfort Stiles grew stronger and stronger, and he found that all he wanted to do was listen to what was making Stiles so upset. He wanted to comfort the hunter that attempted to kill him, twice. He rolled his eyes again, mumbling the word, ‘pathetic’ in regards to his poor choice in attachment.

“You don’t get to fucking judge me.” Derek stared at him, realizing Stiles assumed he was talking to him.

“Who said I was?”

“Oh shut the hell up. I don’t need to have fucking werewolf senses to smell your pity. It’s rolling off of you in fucking waves.” Derek couldn’t really argue with that one. Stiles sighed again, as the anger melted and acceptance forged its way it. He flopped his head into the soft leaves. “I hate my family.”

“I hate your family too.” It got him a glare, but Derek could see the smirk Stiles was trying to hide.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

They laid in a companionable silence and Stiles knew he should feel threatened or disgusted or anything other than content. But then again Stiles was never what he was supposed to be.

It was about three when Stiles decided to head back. He’d gotten up and walked over to the trip wires and began to untangle them. He huffed a laugh as Derek began unwinding the decoy’s set. Derek tossed the supplies into a pile and Stiles shoved them into his backpack. He winced as his felt a twinge in his rib. He instinctively brought at hand to support his side, and Derek looked over.

“Is your rib still bothering you?” Derek was suddenly too close, his hands jerking Stiles arm up and pulling up his shirt, to see the yellowing bruise. Stiles attempted to keep himself from stammering,

“If you’re talking about the aftermath of attempt numero uno, then yeah. But seriously, it healed like super fast, like I should have been covered in black and blue, and had close to a hundred cuts and scars but only the rib, really. It’s like as if it was supernatural heal—“ all of a sudden it seemed to click. “What did you do?” Derek was bent down examining what was left of the bruise. He peered up, and shrugged, as if to saying ‘nothing’. “Bullshit.”

“I healed you. You’re welcome.” Derek avoided his gaze.  
“That was your shirt too, wasn’t it.”  
“Well, it isn’t yours so…” Derek was suddenly closed off, silent as he stared Stiles down, assessing if he had any other injuries.  
“Thanks.” Stiles attempted a smile, catching Derek’s attention. He raised an eyebrow and paired it with a smirk.  
“Yeah, well, let’s stop trying to kill me and maybe you won’t get yourself into too much trouble.”  
“What? But the fun’s only just begun!”

Derek scrunched his eyebrows together,  
“Are you saying you have MORE plans for killing me?” Derek stared Stiles down, a smirk on his lips.  
“Dude, I got a whole notebook full.” Stiles smiled wide. Derek’s eyes widened and he shook his head.  
“I don’t know if you can take much more of that.”  
“Hey,” Stiles said sternly, “I totally didn’t even come close to killing myself this time.” Stiles held up his hands in a gesture that said, ‘See, totally fine.’ “So, meet back here later next week?”  
“You’re an idiot.”  
“I’ll take that as a yes. So, does Sunday work for you? Or are you religious? I can probably push it to Monday.”  
“Monday’s a full moon.”  
“Sunday it is.”  
“Stiles…”  
“Either we meet here, or I come fumbling in the woods on my own, looking for you, and possibly meet a scary creature of the night. You wouldn’t want that.”

“Who says I wouldn’t? You’re kind of a pain in my ass. Annoying as hell.”

“That may be true, but I’m also pretty, damn entertaining.” Stiles did a curtsy and a bow, only to stumble over a loose root. He flailed his limbs before catching himself moments before face planting. He slowly righted himself. “Like I said, never a bore.


	5. Chapter 5

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Stiles crawled into his bed at seven o’clock in the morning. It wasn’t until he was underneath the covers and his head had sunk into the plush pillow that he realized he should probably let Allison know he was home. _She’s smart. She’ll figure it out._

 

He was asleep the next moment, and his snores pushed away the stilled silence of his room.

 

He would have gotten into bed even _later_ if his new friendly-neighborhood-watch-werewolf hadn’t walked him to his car. He also would have gotten home **_earlier_ ** if he hadn’t gotten lost in the first place. He had said goodbye to Derek and began on his makeshift path to his Jeep. But in the darkness of the early morning, one tree looked the same as the next and each boulder the same as the last.  He’d stumbled around lost for twenty minutes before he’d even realized his predicament. He was very, very lost. Then panic began to set in as he walked in complex figure eights. He was swearing and jumping at every snapping twig. It wasn’t long after that when Derek jumped down from a limp, scaring Stiles shitless.

 

           “I leave you alone for a few minutes…” Derek gruffly said as he stood from the squat he'd landed in. 

           “I hate you so much.” Stiles said, his heartbeat still hammering, to which Derek had smirked.

           “You know you’re about—six? Maybe seven miles from your car.”  Stiles almost collapsed again.

           “Oh for fuck’s sake.” Derek placed his hands on Stiles' shoulders and turned him so that he was facing the correct direction. 

           “C’mon. It won’t take that long," he said as he gave Stiles a gentle shove. Stiles took one stumbling step, mouth agate, the warmth from Derek's hands seeming to linger. 

           “Are you…are you walking me to my car?” Stiles stammered in near disbelief as Derek rolled his eyes, not bothering to answer. Stiles regained his snarky composure, “And they say chivalry is dead..”  Derek flashed his eyes red at Stiles with a--what Stiles would consider--a nonthreatening glare.  

           “I _will_ rip your throat out. With my teeth.”  _He could totally be way more terrifying if he wanted. He's not even trying..._

           “Don’t tempt me.” Stiles laughed and playfully slugged Derek in the shoulder, but threw a little too much force into it. “OW! Fuck. What the hell?” Derek rolled his eyes.

           “Don’t look at me like that. That was _completely_ your fault.”

           “Well, you could have WARNED me that you’re built like you’re made of stone!”

           “You shot me in chest with three darts less than a couple hours ago…how is this new news?”

           “I—uh—well they pierced the skin.”

           “What the hell does that have to do with anything?”

           “IT HAS TO DO WITH **_EVERYTHING_**.” Stiles shouted, exasperated, earning a raised an eyebrow from Derek. “And stop that.” Derek jerked his head back in confusion, 

           “Stop _what_?”

           “Your eyebrow yoga. “ Stiles waited for Derek to look over at him and was somewhat satisfied when he did draw Derek's perplexed gaze. Stiles watched as his eyebrows now scrunched together, and he couldn't stop the smirk from spreading across his face. Derek tried to keep his emotions masked, turning his surprised expression to an annoyed stare. They locked eyes for a moment before Derek stopped playing with fire and looked away,

           “You’re an idiot.”

           “You keep saying that…”

 

          Somewhere along the way, Stiles fucked up. Of course, he'd been fucking up for a lot of his short 17 years of life, but never this bad. And yes, he's totally including the time he accidentally almost killed himself with the wolfsbane net. See, somewhere along the way, Stiles realized that he actually liked Derek. It was just a moment where he had an inkling of a thought and he realized he had already gone too far. Because, he wasn't just "putting up" with Derek. He was enjoying walking and bickering with him. He felt comfortable and even as his tired eyes burned and he just wanted a big comfy bed to sleep in for days, he also solemnly worried each time they approached an opening in the woods, that this time he'd see his blue baby. That their little adventure would come to an end. Most terrifyingly, he was looking forward to the next time they were going to meet up. It wasn't so much a question of **_if_ ** they would, but **_when_**.

Stiles liked Derek. He liked their energy and how they existed in the same space with one another. It was bizarre. And what seemed to surprise Stiles even more was that Derek seemed to feel the same way. It kind of contradicted everything he’d been taught growing up: werewolves equal evil, savage monsters. _An evil, savage monster didn’t save me from my own trap. A trap meant to kill him. Derek could have left me for dead. A hunter would have._

And Stiles couldn’t really see a guy, who saved his own pursuer, mercilessly burn his entire family alive. It just didn’t make any sense. Stiles had a nagging feeling that _that_ whole part of the story had something to do with the hunter side of the supernatural world. It wouldn’t surprise Stiles if a hunter blew into town and started the Hale fire and just blamed it on the two lone survivors. Stiles' running train of thought came to an abrupt halt, and he felt the breath go out of him, his feet ceased moving as he acquainted himself with this new reality. The thought made so much sense, that Stiles didn’t really need further proof to know it was true. It caused Stiles’ stomach to churn and he tasted sulfur in the back of his throat.  Derek's concerned face as he looked back at him was enough to force Stiles' feet to move once more. He pushed away the nausea and dark thoughts, and moved to different topic. 

 

Stiles’ change in mood was brief; over the years he'd mastered the art of deflection. He got off onto a tangent about the education system and while Derek monitored his change in demeanor warily, Derek allowed him the privacy to deal with whatever turmoil was brewing in the kid. Derek wanted to know what thought had caused Stiles to quite literally stop in his tracks, to cause that white ashen look of pain and grief wash over his face. He wanted to know, but he didn't pry. Instead, he mainly listened to Stiles blather on about everything and nothing and what cadence his words took on depending on the subject. As much as he enjoyed listening to Stiles' lungs use as much air as possible between breaks in his stream of conversation, Derek also wasn’t completely silent; he added his two cents in every now and then. Stiles was pleasantly surprised that not only could Derek hold his own when they were bickering, Derek enjoyed going toe-to-toe with Stiles. Every once in awhile, Stiles would become quiet again, and the emotion of awe and contentment seemed to roll off of him. Derek enjoyed this too. They could walk in silence, and while they weren’t talking, it was comfortable. Derek never felt pressured to fill the silence, and neither did Stiles.

 

Stiles hated silences, because people could never enjoy them. People ended up rambling about the weather and what they felt about the personal lives of celebrities, or just get REALLY problematic and...yeah, the small talk is what drove Stiles mad. So, Stiles was used to talking incessantly, throwing out any and all random facts he’d acquired in his vast vault of knowledge. Stiles figured a somewhat interesting conversation might develop by mentioning that, on average, there are 178 sesame seeds on each McDonald's Big Mac bun or that the kangaroo population in Australia is estimated at about 40 million or that quotation marks are the youngest form of punctuation, being that they were created only 300 years ago. As long as it wasn’t mundane, gross small-talk, Stiles could put up with anything.

 

The only person Stiles had ever been comfortable in silence with was Allison, but she was also the only person he felt he could be completely open with too.  But it was looking like he could share this companionable silence with none other than Derek Hale. Stiles had laughed at the thought— _Seriously, what is my life._

 

Once Stiles was safely in his car at about 6:30, Derek had said goodbye and Stiles continued on his drive home. Though, Stiles could have sworn he’d seen a flash of red eyes every once in awhile in his rearview mirror.  And he was right. Derek was only following him home to make sure he didn’t fall asleep at the wheel and kill someone. That was all.

 

Stiles had driven carefully, knowing his somewhat impaired state. He made it home in one piece without any incident and while Derek's continued assistance was unnecessary, Stiles would be lying if he said he hadn't found any comfort in knowing a certain Alpha was keeping an eye on him. 

 

* * *

 

Allison tiptoed into his room not long after he had practically collapsed into bed. She peeked in and saw Stiles was dead asleep, so she quietly shut the door with a soft click. She was relieved to see that he was home and wondered if he'd had a good time. She was pretty sure he wasn't hanging out with that Isaac kid, but she didn't know how to tell Stiles that getting stoned in the woods shouldn't be so convoluted. But hey, if he wanted to make up stories and wait until the dead of night and drive out to the preserve to smoke...well, that's his business. 

She tiptoed back to her own room and crawled into bed, snuggling down into to the folds of her purple fleece blanket. Her eyes fluttered closed for a moment before she tried to wake herself back up. She was quite tired for someone who was supposedly asleep all night. Mainly due to the fact that she'd stayed up to really cover for Stiles. It honestly was about watching out for Stiles, texting Scott as a way to help her stay away was just a very nice pro.   

Just in quiet reflection of her night, she reached for her phone, a quick click of the lock button to check if she had any new texts, but she disgustedly threw her phone back down before the screen even lit up.

 

What was she doing? She knew he was a werewolf. He was a monster! And she a hunter! This was just a corny, horrible version of Romeo and Juliet. It was so horribly cliche and STUPID Lifetime wouldn't even buy that script. God, it was so dumb. She was dumb.Allison couldn't even go into the whole 'actually honest to god my family would kill you if given the chance' thing plus the whole what would it mean if they dated in secret and all that nonsense. She couldn't even really think about it in depth because she just could NOT get over how fucking DUMB this whole thing is. , she couldn't date him purely because of how DUMB it was. Everything was just very dumbity dumb DUMB. But even at the most basic level, She couldn’t date him: he was a werewolf. Hunters can’t date werewolves. Nope. It was out of the question.

 

_Scott’s a **werewolf**. He probably eats people in his spare time.  Kills them for sport! You know, when he isn’t saving people from a thirty foot fall, tending to their wounds and taking care of them._

 

_The monster thing must be a night time gig._

 

She groaned and fell face first into her pillow. _What is my life?!_ Allison already knew though. She was too far gone. Her stomach flipped every time her phone lit up. Scott’s goofy grin made her feel light and blissfully happy even when she just imagined it. She could see it brighten his face in her mind when he’d make a joke through text. He’d made her so ridiculously hopeful and optimistic, that not only could they be together and happy, but they could cure cancer and stop world hunger along the way.

 

Allison had daydreamed about them, together, all night. Imaging what they could be. As happy as it made her, it also caused a sinking feeling in her heart. The same realization always haunting her: _he’s a werewolf._

 

She sat up suddenly, her phone wrapped in her hands. Her thumbs quickly glanced over the screen, typing out her message inaccurately—thank god, autocorrect had her back for once.

 

To: Scott

Frm: Allison

_Hey, if you aren’t busy do u wanna hang out later?_

 

Allison refrained from adding a _We need to talk_ because not only were they so not at that stage in their relationship, _‘We need to talk’_ messages were overly dramatic and often misconstrued. Not to mention this whole situation had enough drama on its own.

 

Allison felt a wave of grief and relief as she hit send. _Well, this way we’ll know. I’ll tell him how I feel, even though it is way too early in the game, but I’ll just be honest…and I’ll slip in somewhere that I know he’s a werewolf and that if I didn’t know him personally I would probably have shot him with a wolfsbane arrow._

 

She could just hear Stiles voice in her head, chastising her: _Yeah, you might wanna work on the delivery._

 _Oh Jesus. STILES!_ She couldn’t tell Stiles, not yet. That in itself created a-whole-nother wave of anxiety. She would tell him…eventually. But, what could she tell him now anyway? _She_ didn’t even know what was going to happen yet. Once she talked with Scott, she would have a better sense of what was happening. _Then_ she could decide who to tell and what to tell.  

 

It would all work itself out.

* * *

 

Stiles woke up in the afternoon--he couldn’t tell you what time if his life depended on it. The whole night seemed like a dream—a really weird dream. He knew it was reality though because only a drug induced high could have created a dream as bizarre as last night's reality. And Stiles was drug-free…well besides the Adderall, but he had a prescription for that.

 

Stiles walked to the bathroom and splashed some water on his face before deciding he should take a real shower. Finally nice and clean, he stumbled downstairs to see Allison drumming her fingernails on the counter, staring at her phone. She glanced up when Stiles dragged himself into the kitchen.

 

           “Morning. Have fun last night?” Stiles stared at her for a moment. _Shit. Does she know? How could she kn—I’m too tired for this._

           “What?”

Allison looked over her shoulder, looking for a parent or Gerard, but none of them were even inside of the house.  “Isaac’s…”, She said slowly and the sudden realization hit Stiles in the face.

           “RIIIIIIIGHT. Isaac’s, sorry, yeah. We had a lot of fun. NOT LIKE THAT. Wipe that little perverted grin off your face. God, Allison.” Allison erupted in laughter and Stiles shook his head at her. “Seriously…”

           “What time did you go to bed?”

           “Seven.”

           “Stiles….”

           “Don’t Stiles me.”

           “Do you even know what time it is?”

           “Nope.”

           “Do you care?”

           “Not particularly.”

           “It’s almost four o’clock in the afternoon.”

           “And you’re mad at me? That’s a solid 8 hours!” Allison rolled her eyes.

           “That’s not the point.” Stiles shrugged as he rooted through the fridge.

           “Where are the parentals?”

           “Mom went on a hike with Grandpa. And Dad’s meeting some other hunters about fifty miles away. Negotiations, weapons trading stuff. I didn’t really ask about specifics.” Stiles nodded as he pulled out the plastic wrap covered casserole dish. He piled some macaroni on plate and threw it in the microwave. _I wonder if Derek likes macaroni. What does he eat? Maybe only raw meat…does he live in the forest? That would explain the raw meat._

           “Stiles!” Allison had an incredulous smile spreading across her face, looking equally amused and curious.

           “What?” He responded, fingers lingering on the microwave door. Allison's smile widened, 

           “I was talking to you.”

           “Yeah, negotiations treaties weapons. Mom and Serial Killer are on a hike. Got it.” Allison’s lips twitched as she fought the smile as Stiles went back to squinting to see through the microwave's foggy glass door. 

           “Yeah, but after that, I had said something.” Stiles swore and internal, 'Yikes!' before turning around and looking at Allison with an apology on his lips,

           “Oh, Sorr—“

           “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Allison shook her head good-naturedly. "Don't worry about it." 

           “Hey, do you wanna do our movie night tonight, since I flaked yesterday?” Now, Allison suddenly looked like the guilty party. She subconsciously picked up her phone and put it in her sweatshirt pocket, her thumb resting on the lock button. 

           “Oh, um, actually I was going to out bowling...with some friends…” Stiles suddenly thought of “secret-guy” and Allison at Starbucks and the way Allison’s phone had become permanently attached to her. He thought about giving her some grief, asking to tag along, but he decided to play nice.

           “Bowling? Really? Hah. Wait, oh god, please don’t tell me you’re trying to rope me into this…”

           “Ha, no Stiles, you don’t have to come if you don’t want.” Stiles could see the worry lines in her forehead disappear. The sight made him smile, before quickly changing the subject and going on a mild rant, much to Allison's amusement.

    

* * *

       

Allison left a couple hours later and Stiles resigned himself to his room. He made use of his time by researching all he could about werewolves, trying to reevaluate everything he'd been taught and told. He used old family books, the internet, and recalling from memory everything he’d been told about them from his family. But he took all the information gained from the last source with a grain of salt.

He had always felt estranged from his family, never felt like he truly belonged. But he’d never felt _distrustful_ of them--well aside from Gerard. _But that was a-whole-nother fucking conversation--_ until now.

He sifted through pages and pages of total bullshit and crack pot theories trying to find reliable information on lycanthropy. However, while Stiles praised the Internet in general and admitted that he couldn't live without it, he continually cursed it in his search. A majority of the information seemed far fetched or like they were just outright lies, but every once in awhile Stiles would find bits and pieces that backed up what his family had already told him.

But even those small victories were bittersweet because what made those tidbits of information any more truthful than the other crackpot sci-fi theories? It was a scary realization that Stiles didn't trust 90% of anything his family had told him. Everything seemed to be in question. It was terrifying and upsetting but Stiles also had never felt more right. He felt like while he was unsure about everything he was also suddenly seeing with total clarity.

He wrote down a lot of the information he found in his scheme notebook.  He then tore the pages out and grabbed an old composition notebook he had lying around and recopied the questions down into the blank one. He shoved the scheme book behind the headboard of his bed and labeled the new one, _The Bestiary 2.0_. He jotted down a few more questions and decided he'd ask Derek himself about them the next time he saw him.

That in itself was disconcertingly comforting. Stiles found himself relaxing when he thought about talking to Derek—he could trust Derek. He could bring his questions to Derek and he knew that while he might not answer all of his questions but those he did would be honest, truthful  answers. Isn't that ironic?

Stiles pulled the covers tight over his body at a semi-decent hour, though Stiles' "early" night meant passing out at 2 am. He closed his eyes and quickly began to drift off, with one last lingering thought appearing in his mind:

_Maybe I'll go for a hike tomorrow and run into the friendly, neighborhood alpha._

Allison had snuck into the house shortly after. She crept up the stairs and tiptoed into her bedroom. She flopped on her bed and rolled to her side, her finger absentmindedly rubbing the top of her new ring. It was a street market ring, made of copper with symbols carved along its side. The top anointment was a shiny penny polished to look like gold. It had been $5 and it turned her finger green but it was now her most cherished possession. She looked down at it and a joyous grin spread across her face. She shook her head at herself. _My god, Allison you're acting like some 13 year old girl_ but she continued to smile at the ring fondly.

Her night had gone well. Better than she ever had ever hoped. Her and Scott had gone bowling and went out for pizza after. She had specifically gotten a booth which offered both privacy as well as an audience of witnesses if it all went terribly violent.

They had ordered the pizza and received  their drinks before Allison told Scott. She started with revealing that she knew Scott was a werewolf. Scott had laughed and tried to deny it at first but Allison had to spit out the "but it doesn't matter to me" part before he attested to her claims. Allison then began explaining her side. She'd seen Scott's jubilant face drop, his eyes peering at her with sadness and fear. Scott had looked away from her as his now golden eyes burned holes into the wood of the table. Without any thought or hesitation she had reached a hand out and laid it atop of his. His head had jerked up, his eye color returning to their familiar brown. She had smiled and said "but it doesn't matter to me"  the whole thing was a horrible teen television cliche but Allison couldn't find herself to mind.

The rest of the night was a blur. They walked hand in hand down alleyways and through deserted parks. Scott had found an old street vendor selling weird jewelry. Bottle cap necklaces shark tooth earrings and penny rings. Allison's eyes lingered a moment too long on the penny ring and Scott had snatched it up. He placed it on her finger and then smiled at her looking for approval. He had looked, only then, to the street vendor and asked the cost.   

It didn't occur to Allison until now that Scott would have probably ripped off his own arm to pay for the ring if that's what it took. Scott had walked her to her car and kissed her on the cheek good night. She'd seen him practically skip away as she drove home.

Now she sighed as she kicked off her leather boots. They clattered to the floor and were soon accompanied by her belt and bra. She left the rest of her clothes on, too tired to bother with any form of pajamas. Her head sunk into the pillow as her bliss consumed her. She decided to ignore the decision of telling Stiles or not, to the morning. By then her high will have lowered a bit and she could rationalize things better. That was the plan anyway.

* * *

 

Stiles awoke with a crick in his neck and twinge in his lower back.

  _Great_.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed and forced himself up. He walked across the hallway to the bathroom he and Allison shared and took a speedy shower. He walked back to his room to notice the clock said 9:56am. He quickly threw on some jeans and a bullseye t shirt, and was almost out of the bedroom door when something caught his eye. He yanked off the bulls eye and threw on the black t shirt he'd woken up in the day after the _incident_.  He smirked to himself as he jogged down stairs.

Thankfully the majority of his family despised him and were all avoiding him. The kitchen was empty as he threw an apple into his backpack. He paused before throwing in a second and eyeing the macaroni before deciding against it and bounding out the door. He double checked twice in his jeep that his new notebook was with him before pulling out of the driveway. Music was blaring out of his open windows as he sped to the preserve and he sang loudly to the words he'd memorized long ago. Slamming the door as he hopped out, he practically jogged to the trail. Stiles couldn't tell you why he knew Derek would be there, but the doubt that he wouldn't, never even crossed his mind. Stiles didn't want to know what that all meant, so he didn't think about it too hard. 

 Instead, he enjoyed his ever increasing good mood he neared their spot. Once he arrived, he dropped his stuff on the ground and followed suit himself. He leaned up against a rock and tried to crack his neck, hearing a not-so-good sounding click followed by a hot pain that spread down his neck and into his shoulder.

"Practicing decapitation on yourself isn't advised." Derek appeared through the redwoods and arched an eyebrow at the teen on the ground.

"Hardy-har-har." Derek scrunched his eyebrows together as the corner of his lip turned up.

 "Nice shirt" was all he said before plopping down in front of Stiles. "So what's on the agenda today if not decapitation?"

 "Would you believe me if I said I wasn't going to try and kill you today?" Stiles was hoping Derek wouldn't bring up the fact that he was a few days early to their Sunday appointment.

 "Probably not."

 "Well, I'm not."

 "Good to hear. Means You aren't actively trying to kill _yourself_. You know what they say, third time’s the charm."

 "Hey, I've been living with myself for close to 18 years. We are _WAY_ beyond three my friend. So I think I'm in the clear."

 Derek rolled his eyes while Stiles dug into his backpack. He pulled out his notebook and the two apples.  He stuck one in his mouth and tossed the other one to Derek. Derek raised his eyebrow at the title and shook his head slightly as he fiddled with the apple in his hand. Stiles chose to blatantly ignore him.

 Stiles flipped open the notebook and turned to his plethora of questions.  He took a bite out of his apple and wiped his mouth as some of the juice dribbled down his chin.

 "So I have some questions about your species and Wikipedia is only _so_ reliable." Derek cocked an eyebrow as he bit into the apple.  He took a chunk out of the top of the apple and continued to eat it that way, top to bottom core and all. Stiles had gotten through asking half of his first question when he couldn't take it any longer.

 "Okay, what are you doing?"

Derek scrunched his eyebrows together in confusion.

"Listening to you blather on and on, eating this app—did you poison this?" Derek scowled, his eyes narrowing.

"No dumbass, I didn't _poison_ it. I'm talking about how you're _eating_ it."

Derek looked down at his half eaten apple and shrugged.

"I don't know. I'm just eating."

"Core and all? Who taught you how to eat like that? What, were you raised by—-" Stiles stopped talking and looked towards the woods in irritation. Derek didn't bother trying to hide the smile that spread across his face.

 "Wolves? Was that what you were going to say?"

“Oh, fuck you.” Derek’s laugh deepened and Stiles threw his core at him. Derek snatched it out of the air and ate half of it in one bite. “Do you eat raw meat?”

“What?” Derek jerked his head back, the smirk still playing on his lips.

“Do you eat raw meat?”

“I heard you the first time. Does this have to do with—”

“I’m trying to get back to the list.” Stiles waved the composition notebook around for emphasis, though that particular question wasn't written down.

“Regularly? No. Have I? Yes.”

“What’s it taste like?” Stiles' face scrunched together.

“Blood.” Stiles raised his eyebrows and nodded.

“Yeah, I don’t know what I was expecting.” Derek glanced up towards to the sky and shook his head. “Do you like mac-n-cheese? And not the powdered kind, I’m talking the casserole dish with like block cheese, actual noodles, the works.”

“Werewolves are allergic to cheese.”

“What? Oh my god, are you serious?”

“No.” Derek smiled smugly, because seriously what kind of question was that? It’s mac-n-cheese. Everybody loves mac-n-cheese.

 “Whatever, I was totally going to offer you some DELICIOUS mac-n-cheese, but you just fucked up that deal. Hmmph. Okay, back to business.  You said you healed me? Can all werewolves do that? I thought werewolves could only take away pain, not actually heal.”

“Certain werewolves can do certain things. Like Omegas can only take pain away from other animals. Betas can take pain away from animals and humans, but can only heal injuries from animals. Alphas can relieve pain and heal injuries on animals _and_ humans. But any pain relieving and healing has to be learned and practiced. For instance, a newly changed Beta won’t be able to even take pain away from a dog without concentration and practice.”

 “How does the healing thing work?”

“Same as the pain relieving. It’s kind of a transfer. I take some of the illness and heal it in myself, you get some faster healing abilities to work on the remainder of the injuries.”

 “But what about the wolfsbane? I was suffering from wolfsbane poisoning, so wouldn’t you taking some of that be like really bad?” Derek shook his head.

“It doesn’t work quite like that. It’s more like I receive an injury that’s a variable, the only thing that stays constant is the severity of the injury. I don’t really know all the details. I just know I feel the pain but don’t get the consequences of it.” Stiles jotted down notes and nodded.

 “Did you just kind of practice on your own or is there like special training or what?” Stiles saw Derek stiffen a bit.

“My sister taught me.”

“Oh.” Stiles was quiet now. He knew he was tiptoeing in dangerous territory especially after his little revelation that a hunter was most likely the reason that Derek no longer had a sister, no longer had anyone. “My sister tried to teach me how to use a slingshot when we were nine.” Stiles tugged at the corner of the notebook, rubbing edge until it began to fray. He snuck a peek at Derek, whose shoulders had slightly relaxed, waiting for Stiles to continue speaking.

 “Well, _she_ _swears_ to this day that the whole situation was really _her_ fault. But...yeah. Anyways, Thanksgiving was horrible as it was every year and I got upset and stormed outside. Allison came and got me and wanted to cheer me up. So we’re in the backyard with the slingshot. And I found these little black balls, in the garage, that I thought were cool cause they looked like something from a spy movie. So, I’m loading the slingshot with one of the super-spy balls, and uh, I, well, I shot one but I didn’t really know what I was doing and I hadn’t really paying attention to what Allison said. And well, I accidentally twisted the cord so while I was facing the backyard when I shot, it flicked back and shot over my shoulder. It broke the kitchen window and flew into the dining room. Long story short, little black super-spy balls were actually tear gas and Little Stiles ruined Thanksgiving for the fifth time.” Derek had been respectfully silent throughout the story, his grin growing wider with each excited sentence, but he had lost all composure by the end. He squinted as if in disbelief as a big smile spread across his face, teeth and all.

 “You...you launched a _tear gas_ _bomb_... into the dining room...on Thanksgiving!?”

“Yep.” Stiles popped the p as he nodded. “Guess I can put ‘made twenty or more hunters cry and beg for mercy before age ten’ on my college apps.” Derek chuckled but ended up doubled over. Stiles could hear the rumbling growl that escaped with each laugh. Stiles took a moment to realize it was about ten times funnier to Derek because one, he wasn’t the one who was grounded for a month and got the reprimand of lifetime and two, the main league of hunters being attacked by their own son must be some pretty sweet vengeance. After several minutes, Derek sat upright again with a confused smirk on his face.

 “Wait, you said you ruined Thanksgiving for the _fifth_ time? What happened the first, second, third, and fourth times?” Stiles shook his head but was happy that Derek was out of his closed off broody state.

 “Well, the first time was when I was five and well. I’ve always liked to help cook. And I thought I’d add a little secret ingredient to the gravy. But this _**so**_ wasn’t my fault, because who keeps powdered wolfsbane in the freaking cupboard? It was an accident waiting to happen. Anyways, so yeah by the time pie was going to be served everybody was tripping like they were on acid. I’m pretty sure my dad was mutilating a frozen chicken at one point. I really only remember Allison chasing me around with a spatula calling me Tomato Boy. It was _terrifying_.” Derek had been laughing with Stiles through the whole story. “Don’t ask me what the Tomato Boy thing was about. To this day she won’t talk about it.”

 “What hallucinations were you seeing?”

 “Oh, I wasn’t seeing any. I had gotten in trouble ten minutes before the meal was served and was put into a forty minute time out. I hadn’t eaten anything yet. So I was completely lucid.”

 Derek shook his head as his smile widened.

 “Yeah, so that was the first time. Next year was just a normal incident. I was being my annoying, persistent self and my cousin Anthony got irritated at me so he shoved me, not too hard, but I stumbled and tripped on the hallway rug, then somersaulted down the stairs. My mom and dad had to take me to the hospital and Allison insisted on coming along. Everyone waited until we got back to eat, but it took forever so, everything was cold by the time we got back. Then everything was all dry from trying to heat it back up. So I ruined it for a second time...” Derek’s smile had faded during this story and he looked concerned, mad even.

 “But that wasn’t your fault. Your cousin’s the one that shoved you.”

“Yeah, I guess. No one else really saw it like that though. I was just being an annoying, little clumsy kid screwing things up as per usual.” Stiles shrugged and Derek’s frown deepened.

 “Next year, I decided just to avoid everyone so I wouldn’t screw anything up and well, that led to me reading in the living room while watching the parade on TV. Allison was dancing, trying to be like one of the dancers on the floats. So I took her outside and had her stand on top of my old red wagon. I tied a string to the handle and pulled her around the yard while she danced and pretended to wave at a crowd. Well, the wagon wasn’t all that much like a float so I went to the garage to get some sparklers, from the Fourth of July, that she could use but I couldn’t find any so....”

 “You improvised?”

 “Ha, yeah. You could say that. Well I found these flares and I duct taped them to the wheels of the wagon. And well they were cool and all but they didn't have that pizazz that I was looking for. SO, I went back and got some fireworks and well. I don’t even know how it happened but the firework rocket went off and kind of blew up my aunt’s car and part of the side of the house.” Stiles shook his head reliving the memory, “It was a total accident...but if I was going to blow up anyone’s car, it’d probably be hers...or Gerard’s.” Derek huffed a laugh. He pulled his knees up and leaned back on his forearms, looking towards the sky and the warm sun filtering through the trees. Stiles found himself staring at the way the light seemed to cling to Derek’s skin. He closed his mouth and resisted clearing his throat.

 “When she was sixteen, my sister, Laura, wanted to cut down a pine tree for Christmas. Like an actual pine tree, as in it was over fifteen feet tall, and actually pretty thick. But she was determined to cut it down. Well, she couldn’t just cut it down like a normal person. She went at it with her claws. She wanted to prove that she was capable or something. I can’t remember what her exact reasoning was... But, she spent hours trying to claw it down, and when she finally knocked it over and saw that the other side had a bald spot, she left it there right in the middle of the path. I had watched her do it and was laughing the whole time. She didn't talk to me for a week.” Derek smiled fondly, still looking up at the sky. Stiles laughed as he tried to picture Laura. He’d hadn’t seen her much before. The last time he ever saw her was about two years prior, right before she’d died. She had been at the supermarket, a shopping basket toted on her arm. He was there just picking up a few items, he’d seen a quick glimpse of her and had continued to pick out his cereal. He hadn’t gave it much thought but as soon as she’d noticed him, she had dropped her basket off behind a display and disappeared. The next thing he saw was her speeding out of the parking lot in her black Camaro. Stiles’ family name definitely had its reputation; she must have known Stiles was an Argent. Stiles suddenly wished he’d been able to actually meet her, to get to know her like he has Derek. Stiles’ mind ran through the story once more when a small thought wormed its way to the front of his brain.

“How old were you?” He raised an eyebrow, or attempted to, as he waited for Derek’s answer.

“Fourteen.” Stiles quickly did the math realizing his inkling of a theory could be right. If Derek was fourteen _then_ that meant Stiles had been about nine. Which was the same time....

 “Wait, is that the pine tree that’s in the middle of the path on the West side?” Derek nodded, still focusing on the sunlight. “Oh my god that’s Moe!” Derek’s eyebrows quirked in confusion; he tipped his head forward, glancing at Stiles. “When Allison and I were younger we used to always hang out in this clearing over on the West Side. And one time, when we were nine, we were hiking over there and there was this pine tree right in the middle of the path. We named him Moe. We used to say hi to him and--what am I saying we _still_ go and visit him like all the time. I just saw him last week!” Derek raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing at his lips.

 “Are you serious?”

“Dead serious.”  Derek smiled wide and laughed, shaking his head.

“Small world.” And Stiles agreed,

“Small world.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is one of my FAVORITE chapters so far! I love this one a lot! i'd love if you'd comment and tell me what you guys think! Sorry for the late upload last time! I'll try and be more punctual! Hope you guys like it and thank you so much for all the kudos and bookmarks and comments! 
> 
> Thanks so much! ~xoxoSasha

It’d been three days since then and Stiles had survived living at home, but just barely. Nothing much had happened. His mom was even in a semi-cordial mood. Stiles was sitting at his desk in his room, his foot bouncing in place. He was just itching to get out and talk to Derek.

 As he sat there and thought about it, he hadn’t had an actual conversation with anyone in over seventy two hours. Normally, he had Allison to talk to. But she wasn’t home ninety percent of the time. She’d leave close to ten o’clock in the morning and come home either right before dinner or late after. What little conversation they did have between her comings and goings were painful. He could tell she was lying about where she’d been and he was pretty sure she could tell he was lying about almost everything. What had he done today? Oh just played videogames, hung out with some friends. Which friends? Oh you know, his friends from his class, who she probably doesn't know too well because she’s in a grade lower, even though the school probably only has a thousand or so kids enrolled. Where was he the other day? Oh just...hiking. Really going to give up hunting? Oh, you could say that.

 It irritated him having to lie to her. But what was he supposed to say?

  _Oh hey Al, by the way, I kind of have a crush on the Alpha. Yes that same Alpha, who you think burned his whole family alive. How the fuck did that happen? Well we're kind of best friends and I’d trust him with my life. How did we become friends you ask? Well, remember when I told you I was going to hunt him and you told me not to? Yeah well I lied and told you I wasn’t feeling well when I was actually going to go capture and kill him. How ‘d that go you say? Well, I nearly killed myself. And Derek had to save me. I then proceeded to try and kill him again, you know when I lied and told you I was going to hang out with Isaac--spoiler alert, he’s a werewolf too apparently--yeah, well that was ALSO a lie. Then I got lost and he walked me to my car like a goddamn southern gentleman. Then I went out the next day just to hang out with him and we talked for hours and now I’m in love with him. Oh, and it’s only been three days since I talked to him and I’m kinda-sorta going through withdrawal. Did I mention he gave me one of his tshirts and I wear it to bed practically every night because I’m literally out of mY FREAKING MIND. I’ve only spent two weeks with the guy and all I want to do is make out with his stupid face. Actually, that’s the thing, I don’t even care about the making out! I want to like hold his hand and talk about things and he’s the only person I trust and my whole world is flipping upside down! This family fucking repels me and Derek’s there, accepting and just_ **there _._** _He’s always there. Even when he doesn't have to be or really_ shouldn’t _. And I’ve never felt as connected with someone as I have with you. But we talk and he listens and there’s silences and they’re comfortable. And they’re different from our silences. Derek’s and my silences are almost like we_ are _talking but nothing has to be said.  And Al, I don’t know what’s happening anymore._

 Stiles also wanted to confront her about Secret-Boy. But he didn't really have much room to judge on lies and secret relationships. So here he was. Stuck. And he’d never hated anything so much in his life. No matter what, he always had Allison. When everything would go to hell or he caught himself up in mess too big to clean up himself, Allison was there with a smile and a helping hand. But where was his support now when he’d dug himself so deep that there was no coming back? When he didn’t even want to dig himself free.

Stiles shook his head as if that could get rid of all the barbed thoughts and anguish that plagued him. He pushed away from his desk, the rolled wheels catching on the rug catapulting him out of the chair. He grabbed a hold of his bedsheets and caught himself. He rolled his eyes hearing another’s snarky comment in his head. He righted himself and grabbed his keys and the Bestiary 2.0 and tucked it under his arm, his empty backpack in his other hand.

He made it downstairs to see his dad’s keys were still gone, so his father hadn’t gotten home from a hunter’s meeting in a neighboring county. Gerard and his mom were off to only god know’s where. Stiles couldn't help but feel bitter that his parents only seemed to be around when they were in foul moods, but on the days when they acted like actual human beings they were nowhere to be found.

He breezed into the kitchen and opened the fridge door. He grabbed a couple cans of coke and bag full of baby carrots. He hesitated at the half of pizza wrapped in aluminum foil. _Noon normally means lunch...._

 He grabbed it and a bag of Doritos  then threw it in with the rest of the stuff before bounding out the door. His Jeep jumped alive as the music blared through the speakers. Stiles turned it down a notch until he got out of his neighborhood. The drive itself lightened his mood and he found himself shoulder dancing as he made the familiar turns. He pulled to his designated parking spot, and practically leapt out of the car. Ten minutes into his hike a dark figure appeared from behind a tree.

 “Well, good morning Sr. Alpha! How are you doing on this fine day?” Stiles gently slugged Derek’s shoulder. Derek smirked as his eyebrows pulled together.

 “You’re in a good mood.”

“Fucking great mood.”

“Any particular reason?” Stiles smiled wide and shook his head, knowing the Alpha would be able to recognize the lie if he spoke verbally.

“Hey, you wanna do something different today?”  Derek turned his head to look at Stiles as he continued walking, easily stepping over roots and rocks.

“Like what?” Derek looked just as curious as suspicious.

“Well, I was thinking we could hike over to the West Side. There’s a lower level of the woods too, it’s where Allison and I usually go. It’s one of my favorite parts of the Preserve. I don’t know, it was just an idea...”

“Ok.”

“Okay?”

“Let’s go.” Stiles fought the urge to fist pump, then decided _what do I have to lose?_ Derek rolled his eyes at Stiles’ exuberant enthusiasm.

 They weaved through the trees never separating more than a few feet from one another. As they hiked Stiles jumped from rock to rock when it wasn’t out of the way. Derek stuck close by, steadying Stiles every once in a while when he lost his footing, easy conversation flowing the entire time. Stiles bounced from topic to topic not really caring what they talked about. He must have asked Derek a thousand questions and he was surprised by the amount Derek answered. He started with werewolf species questions and slowly moved to specify Derek’s likes and dislikes. Stiles didn't even bother trying to justify the questions as research.

 “Fanny packs, yay or nay?”

“Obviously nay.”

“What, they’re convenient. Don’t let mainstream society stop you from convenience.”

“I’d rather be shot with a wolfsbane bullet than wear a fanny pack.”

“Jeez okay, so nay on fanny packs. What about jean jackets? Obviously you have a preference for leather, but do you swing both ways?” Stiles waggled his eyebrows and Derek threw him a sideways glance.

 “Well that isn’t polysemantic at all.”

“You scored pretty high on the SATs, huh?” Derek rolled his eyes for the millionth time in their conversation, and each time time a wider smirk spread over Derek's face. “Well?”

“I prefer leather, but I’m not opposed to jean jackets. But to actually spend money to buy a jean jacket, _to own it,_  it would have to be really great quality.”

“You’re kind of possessive.”

“We’re talking about _clothing_.”

“Mm-hmm. Of course we are.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“You’re making me blush!” Stiles pretended to fan himself and smile spread across Derek’s face, against his will.  “Can you ride a bike?” Derek muttered an ‘oh my god’.

 

“Yes Stiles, I can ride a bike.”  Stiles laughed as Derek shook his head. “What?”

“I’m sorry but all I can picture is you trying to ride a mountain bike in black jeans and a leather jacket.”

“What about you? How do you ride a bike with all those flailing limbs and spastic nature?”

“Not easily. Allison taught me when I was eight. It’d been an experience. Like wow, props to Allison for that kind of perseverance. My cousins had given up trying to teach me and my parents never even bothered to try, which is completely understandable actually. But it was during summer and Allison just pulled out her bike and told me to ride it. I fell down enough times for my DNA to be permanently ingrained in our street’s concrete. But I figured it out by the end of the day. I kid you not, when I finally was able to ride figure eights I told Allison to sing me background music. She sang Feelin’ Good by James Brown and waved leaves as pompoms as I rode around the neighborhood. It was a good day.” Stiles was smiling. Back in the days of overalls and primary colored shirts, Stiles had finally gripped his own handlebars, no longer having to share a bike with Allison. They used to ride for hours all over the neighborhood, the Lyon’s rose bushes blurring at the side of their vision as they raced down the sidewalk. They would ride until Stiles’ lungs burned more than his calves and Allison’s cheeks were crimson red. They weren’t just confined to the neighborhood though; they had grown out of those parameters quickly. They saved racing for special occasions, and developed a new routine of exploring the town, making treks out to Safeway, the red lettered sign a beacon of salvation. Stiles’ sweat plastered forehead and overheated body received a burst of energy whenever he saw it, his brain recognizing it for a sure fire way to get some needed air conditioning. Though one time after bounding through the sliding glass doors with ice creams in hand, they came outside to see all the pink and silver streamers ripped out of Allison’s handlebars. The glittering streamers glistened in the sunlight but the scene was anything but beautiful. Stiles had marched back in the supermarket, buying duct tape with quarters and loose change he’d scrounged out of his pockets, then taped them back on.  They rode home like nothing had happened, Stiles and Allison raced the last block. Allison had let him win, and Stiles for once didn’t argue about it.

Derek reveled in the way Stiles talked of Allison. It reminded him and his relationship with Laura. He and Laura had bickered worse than any of the other siblings, but they had also gotten along the best. They’d bonded further after the fire, something about being the only two survivors nourished their already close relationship. In Derek’s diligent listening of Stiles’ stories, he also had begun to notice that not only did Stiles love Allison but that she was the _only_ one Stiles talked fondly of. When asked, Stiles didn't even deny it.

“Yeah, aside from Allison, I pretty much despise everyone in my family. Especially now.”

“Why do you hate everyone in your family? I mean I agree with you but, they’re your family.”

 “Allison’s my family. The rest of them...” Stiles trailed off, “Allison is pretty much all I got. I mean if you hadn’t noticed our family is kind of bat shit crazy. Allison gets along better with them than I do though. She can kind of look past the crazy most of the time. She also doesn’t see the crazy a majority of the time. So there’s that too.

 “My family...well, I never really wanted to be a hunter. I was never into it, maybe because I suck at it. Or maybe I suck at it because I’ve never been into it. Either way,” Stiles shrugged. “They didn’t seem to care what I wanted, still don’t. Regardless, I’ve never felt that I could really trust them. I’m never given the full details, never told what the whole point is.” Stiles found his resentment towards his parents to have grown immensely in his teenage years. Groundbreaking revelation, really; he should write a book.

In all seriousness, it wasn’t until he was about fourteen when Stiles began to really notice that not only was he completely different from the rest of his family, but the core beliefs that made up his personality and mentality completed contradicted a majority of his family’s practices. Stiles tried to pinpoint what exactly those were, but was always at a loss for words. He couldn’t really describe it more than just ‘wrong’, whether it be a fleeting comment made by his mother about the barbaric monsters that lurked in the woods, or his cousins excitement to forget about school work in exchange to go maim and kill something. Stiles shook his head.  “Like why the fuck do we care if you’re a werewolf?”

 The corner of Derek’s lip curved up. “You’re asking _me_?”

 “And like the Code. I don’t even know what _The Code_ is! All my dad talks about is the Code, The Code, the Code. ‘We ALWAYS follow the Code, Stiles.’ ‘We live by the Code.’ ‘The Code is what separates us from being the monsters.’ But has anyone ever told me what The Code is? Nope. To be quite honest, I don’t think anyone knows what it is. I think all the hunters are just flying by the seat of their pants and making it up as they go. I mean what’s to stop some crazy hunter from just going a killing spree? ‘Oh, well it wasn’t in the Code.’ Fuck the code. I think it’s just an excuse. A bunch of crap.”

“Pretty much.”

 Stiles was quiet as he looked up through the leaves, appreciating the way the sun filtered through them as they walked. The sheer beauty of the scene seemed to intensify as Stiles allowed himself to rant and finally vocalize thoughts he’d been suppressing for years. “And everyone, they just listen to Gerard. Like, like he’s some prophet or something. They don’t ask any questions, they just take his word for it. And no one seems to get how fucking CREEPY he is. Like he threatened to drain my blood! Then laughed and tried to ruffle what little hair I have--which OW. Regardless, Grandpa’s don’t do that. Now, I get that I’m the only one he makes horrible threats to, but still, everyone else should notice that he’s not all there. Right?”

“He isn't the nicest guy.”

“THANK YOU.” Stiles felt vindicated for once. He loved Allison but if she corrected him for calling that creep, Gerard one more time...

 Gerard was no grandpa. Being all sneaky and conniving. He was up to something, disappearing with his mom all the time lately. Something was up. Stiles was about to voice his suspicions when a thought suddenly occurred to him. He jerked his head to face Derek.

“You haven’t moved your pack from the subway station right?”

Derek pulled back in surprise. “Uh, no. How’d you know we were there?”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “My dad was pretty sure you had moved back into town. I did some stake outs. Saw a group of leather clad delinquents frequent the place. One night I saw you leave and head to the Preserve. So, you haven’t moved right? Because I’m like 90% sure that my Mom and Gerard are looking for you in the northern part of the Preserve.”

 “No. We’re still in the subway station. Why haven’t they ambushed us yet? Do they seriously not trust you enough to follow up on your lead?”

 “Uh, I didn't tell them where you were. Or who’s in your pack. They don’t even know I know. It’s a good thing too, considering I used one of them as an excuse just the other day.” Stiles thought back to when he’d stupidly told Allison he was going to sleepover at Isaac’s. He’d just blurted the first name that came to mind. So, _so_ not his fault.

 “You don’t know who’s in my pack.” Derek said it with so much confidence, but Stiles just rattled off the names.

“Isaac Lahey, Erica Reyes, and Boyd. I’m not sure what his last name is, or maybe Boyd is his last name and I don’t know his first. Either way. So, I’m guessing you’ve been cutting through the northern part to get here? Yeah, stop that. I just realized that this is the third hike Gerard and my mom have taken in that area.” Derek’s eyes were wide, surprised, less about the Gerard information and more at the knowledge Stiles had.

 “I haven’t been coming that way at all. But I smelt an Omega near the West Side. It smelt like it came from the North, passing through.” Stiles relaxed a bit.

 “Okay, well anyway. Keep an eye out. Because even if the Code stands for anything, Gerard is last person who would follow it.”  Stiles sighed, exhaling a breath he hadn’t realized he been holding in. All the stress of his family, and now Derek was taking a toll on him. He was relieved to know that Derek was safe, for now. So that took a load off. But there was so much more that his new friendship with Derek had brought to light. Things he'd always known, but ignored. They couldn't be ignored any longer.

 “What?” Derek looked over at him. Stiles shrugged trying to brush it off, but to no avail due to Derek's intense stare. Stiles rolled his eyes.

 “Just my life.” Stiles smirked, kicking a loose rock on the path. “My family and I never really got along, but lately...Whatever. I just. Everything’s changing you know? Like before, we never got along, like _ever_ , but I still loved them. They were my family. Now...” Stiles shook his head, “I can’t even look at them without getting upset. They always taught us that werewolves were the monsters. That hunters were the heroes.They’re hiding something. I don’t know what but...” Stiles kind of trailed off and glanced up. Derek was watching him from the side intently. “It’s big and horrible. I can just feel it...” Stiles broke the eye contact and stared ahead.

 Stiles sighed but he felt much better than he had earlier. Lighter, as if getting everything off his chest was actually lifting weights off his shoulders.

 “I never did tell you about the Fourth Ruined Thanksgiving, did I?”

“You went on a tangent.”

“Ah, I see. Well. I may or may not have set the backyard on fire.”

“And how did you manage to do that?”

“Hey, you’d think they’d learn from the last year to hide the fireworks better. Especially after taunting me that I would only get a puppy when ‘pigs fly’.” Derek’s eyes widened.

“You didn't—”

“Didn’t find rockets and then strap them to the Thanksgiving Ham, then didn't send the thing rocketing off the roof into the backyard, where it didn’t exploded mid-air sending pieces of burnt ham around the yard like it was confetti, only after that for the rest of the rocket to definitely not crash and catch the woodshed on fire? Yeah, no, of course not.”  Derek chuckled, shaking his head.

 

“Did you get the puppy?”

“Nope.”

“Shame.”

“Seriously! I think it’s ‘cause they're specie-ist.”

 

* * *

 

“How long has it been?”

Derek shrugged. “Two hours maybe? What time did you get here?”

“It was like almost noon when I left the house....Aaaand it is,” Stiles pulled his phone from his back pocket. “1:56pm now.”

 

They were in the West Side of the Preserve but hadn’t found Stiles’ favorite area yet. The West Side, while still a part of the Preserve, had different landscaping than the East Side. The West Side had small rivers and streams, large hills and meadows, trees surrounded them from all sides, and vibrant green plants framed the beaten dirt paths from health enthusiasts on their daily jogs and from school children on field trips. The East Side, where Derek and Stiles’ spot was located, was entirely different. It was mainly unexplored and therefore wild. Wild flowers sprung up where they pleased and roots tangled together. Leaves from the seasons prior made up the ground and while there were hills, the area was mainly flat. There were little to no paths and it was almost always vacant.

 Stiles and Derek continued to talk as they walked on an older trail that had been forgotten. Some of the bushes grew over the walkway and they had a little bit more of an East side feel, as poppies sprouted from the sides of purple flowers and grew over roots.

 Stiles thought he recognized the bush leading down to the lower level, so he ran up ahead and turned around to take a look from his normal perspective.  It looked similar but it was obviously not the bush he was looking for. But the displaced dirt around it and the broken branches were out of place.

 Stiles squatted down beside it. Derek looked down at him, having caught up and watched Stiles examine the shrub.

 “What is it?” Derek asked as he lowered down next to him. Stiles shook his head.

“I wasn’t sure if this was the marker to get down, the one Al and I always use. It isn’t but look, all its branches are broken on this side. Stiles shoved the branches aside and looked down. “Woah, that’s a drop.” He looked at the ledge and could see where the edge had collapsed, the hard dirt cracked and the soft sand crumbling looking as stable as a house of cards. “Do you think it could be the Omega?”  Derek nodded.

 “I can smell him, but there’s someone else too. I don’t know who or what...but it smells...familiar?” Derek turned to look at Stiles, whose face was squinted in confusion.

 “Huh. Can you smell how old this is?”

 “It isn’t fresh, that’s for sure. Maybe a week old? That would be about the same time that I first smelt the Omega.”

 “Do you think he’s still around?”

“I don’t think so. I haven’t noticed any signs anytime lately. I could have been wrong; maybe he wasn’t passing through the North, maybe he was heading that way.” Derek shrugged.

 “ ‘S possible.” Stiles stood back up and continued hiking. It was about twenty minutes later when Stiles found the right bush. Before pushing it back and heading down he turned around to Derek.

“Hey, um, do you want to visit Moe? I mean the um...” Stiles stopped talking as he saw the closed off mask cover Derek’s face. He was about to suggest just forgetting the whole idea, when Derek raised his face and nodded.

 “Yeah, I’d like that.” Stiles smiled widely and he was too happy to worry if that was an appropriate reaction or not. Derek’s smile was small and reserved, but it was there and it was genuine.

 

It was a short hike to Moe and for the first time in years, Stiles didn't run over and tap it saying, “How ya doin Moe?” He slowed down as they approached it and was thankful when Derek walked ahead of him. Derek stopped a few inches short of it and smiled. His hand were by his sides but Stiles saw how Derek’s fingers reached out. It was quiet for a moment and Stiles found it to be peaceful as he listened to the sounds of the rustling forest.

 

Derek walked to the side of the trail pushed some of the foliage away, a smirk unfolding in his face. He turned around and waved Stiles over.

 

"That's where she clawed it down." Derek's fingers pointed out the grooves in the wood.  Stiles ran the pads of his fingers over them.

 

"Thanks." Stiles whispered as if in the presence of a holy relic. Derek looked curiously at Stiles.

 

"For what?"

"Sharing this with me." Stiles nodded to his own response and looked at Derek, whose eyes bore into Stiles'  before giving a controlled nod.

 

* * *

 

They'd hiked back to the secret opening to the lower level. Stiles pushed it back and slipped through. He jumped down the two ledges and sprinted the rest of the way down the slope, Derek close on his heels.

 

Stiles skidded to a stop but was soon hit by a freight train. Or you know the Adonis of all alpha werewolves.  He ran into Stiles at full speed and knocked them both flying. Derek wrapped his arms around Stiles and twisted as they fell. Derek landed hard with a thud and cushioned the blow as Stiles landed on top of him.

 

"Aurgh." Stiles groaned into Derek's chest as he lay motionless on top of him.

 "Sorry, I wasn't expecting you to come to a DEAD STOP." Derek's chest rose and fell, lifting Stiles' head with every breath. "Are you okay?"

 Stiles hesitated in answering, scared any answer would result in him having to move off of Derek.

 "Yeah." He felt Derek nod, his arms still tight around Stiles middle and his left hand resting in the slope of his lower back. Stiles didn't know how long they stayed like that. He spent the whole time praying it wouldn't end and worrying that any second Derek would shove him off. But each passing minute marked a "oh my god this is still happening" in Stiles' brain. 

 Stiles suddenly realized he didn't want Derek to end it. That the whole cuddling thing was going to have to come to a close eventually but he didn't want to have to replay this memory with Derek awkwardly implying that "that was fun and all but—". Stiles tilted his head up a bit.

 "Hungry?"

 

* * *

Derek unfolded the aluminum and took a piece of pizza as Stiles popped the tops of the sodas.

 “You know, I’m not a stray dog. You don’t have to keep bringing me food.”

“Want me to stop?”

“I didn’t say that.” Stiles laughed as he took a sip of his coke and handed Derek his.

“I thought a picnic was in order. What can I say?” Stiles took a bite out of the cold pizza and leaned against the tree trunk, his long legs stretched out in front of him. Derek was beside him with the half pizza on the crumpled sheet of foil balanced on their laps, half of it on Derek’s thigh, the other half on Stiles’. The pizza was cold, but delicious. Stiles licked the light sheen of grease from his fingers, as he plucked the pepperoni from his slice and ate them first. Stiles caught Derek staring every once in awhile but didn’t vocally acknowledge it. He did however steal a few pieces of pepperoni off of the slice in Derek’s hands. It earned him a narrowed-eyed glare but no retribution.

 The ripped and crumpled foil held small pools of grease and a few burnt crumbs of crust, but that was the only evidence that the pizza was ever there. Stiles squashed the foil into a tight ball and threw it in the bottom of his bag. His hand searched the bottom until feeling the bulk of a plastic bag, and Stiles  pulled out the carrots and chips. He held both in his hands and Derek grabbed the ziplock bag of baby carrots and tossed a couple in his mouth before handing the bag back to Stiles. Stiles took one out and bit in half and stared at the leftover segment before holding it up for Derek to see.

 “Did you know you can bite your finger off as easily as you bite a carrot? But your brain’s like woah, don’t ‘cause that’s your finger. Weird huh?” One of Derek’s signature frowns came over his face.

 

“I’m pretty sure that's  _complete_ bullshit.”

“ _Preeeetty_ sure it’s not.” Stiles ate the remaining part of the carrot  before ripping open the bag of Doritos  and carefully picking out a handful of perfectly triangular chips. He held the orange powdery gold mine in the palm of his hand, then picked one of the flawless chips and raised it to his lips. Derek plucked it from his fingers and threw it into his mouth, a loud crunch the only sound between them. Stiles mouth hung open, a look of disbelief and horror on his face as he looked between his empty fingers and Derek’s mouth.

 “My god, you _are_ a savage monster.” Derek huffed a laughed before stealing another chip from Stiles’ hand. “The fuck? There’s a whole bag here, mister!” Stiles hid his hand holding the crème de la crop of Doritos.  

 “Exactly.” Derek smiled, a small streak of orange powder dusting his bottom lip. Stiles gaped then looked down and popped the last couple chips he had in his hand into his mouth, mumbling about good looks, fairness, and laws that should be creating a better relationship between the two. “Heard that.”

 “You know, just ‘cause you’re a werewolf doesn’t mean you get to use your superpowers all the time. I should be able to mutter sarcastic, sweet nothings without you hearing them, thank you very much.”

 “Can’t really turn the hearing thing off, so don’t hold your breath.” Stiles rolled his eyes as he took a swig of his coke.  

 “God, I hate you.” Stiles grabbed broken pieces of chips and shoved them gracelessly into his mouth. Derek was quiet and when Stiles turned to look at him, he wore a smile while staring down at the carrots in his hands as he pulled a few more from the bag. Stiles was almost shocked at how shy Derek looked. “What?”

 “That was a lie.” A blush spread across Stiles cheeks and he looked down at his hands angrily.

 “Oh fuck you.”  

 Derek chuckled underneath his breath.

* * *

 

Stiles laid down flat on the forest floor, flopping down with a thud, then moaning from the force of the fall. Derek laughed and flicked a seed he’d found on the ground at Stiles.

 “Too weak to continue on?”

 They had started their return hike and were only about a third of the way back. But the sun was already low in the sky and would begin to set within a few hours.

 “Shut up. I just don’t want to go home.” Stiles was quiet for a moment. The soft leaves beneath his head providing a more than acceptable cushion. He sighed heavily and Derek raised his eyebrow as if to ask ‘What?’. Stiles crossed his fingers and placed them behind his neck before realizing it wasn’t all that comfortable, and then uncrossed them. His arms flailed outward to the sides. “Allison’s hiding something from me.” Derek plopped down next to Stiles.

 “You think?”

 “ _Know_. It’s nothing big. She’s dating this guy, I’ve been calling him Secret-Boy in my head but I don’t actually know who he is.” Derek nodded.

 “Why isn’t she telling you?”

 “That’s what bothers me.” Stiles shrugged, his shoulders pushing some of the leaves closer toward his head. “I mean I get why she isn’t totally open about it, like our parents are literally psychotic. But she’d always tell _me_. It’s stupid; she’s allowed to date Secret-Boy if she wants, and she’s allowed to keep it a secret. I just wish she’d tell me. You know? I don’t like secrets. Especially secret relationships. It just creates a lot of drama and I think it’s just asking for horrible consequences.”

 Derek had turned silent at the last couple remarks.

 “Do you think ‘Secret-Boy’ is safe?” Derek spoke carefully.

“How should I know? I’ve never met the guy. He looked amiable. I saw my sister drag him out of Starbucks to avoid me so I think she has control over the whole relationship but after the first time I saw them together, I playfully slugged Allison’s shoulder and she cried out in pain. She literally dropped a plate it. Like that’s not just a weird coincidence right? Or am I freaking out over nothing?”

 “Secret relationships are not good.” Derek said it slow, convinced. Stiles exhaled.

“How not good is snooping?”

“Pretty not good.”

“But I totally should, huh?”

“Yeah.”

* * *

  

“We still on for Wednesday?” Stiles said at the edge of the Preserve, his blue Jeep only a dozen feet away.

 “Depends, is Wednesday _a-let’s-walk-around-the-wood-and-ask-Derek-questions_ day or is i _t let’s-try-to-kill-Derek-and-accidentally-maim-and-kill-ourselves_ type of a day?”

 “Well, I was planning on the former, but with that attitude it’s looking like the latter of the two options.”

 “See you Wednesday.”

“Unless I get bored and wander out here tomorrow.”

“The day of the full moon? Don’t.”

“Well now I _have_ to!” Derek rolled his eyes and stalked off into the shadows of the woods. Stiles turned the ignition and jumped at the blare of the car stereo. “Shit!” He turned it down quickly and swore he heard a faint chuckle off in the distance.

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for all the kudos comments and just awesomeness of my readers! You guys are fantastic! So here's the next chapter; I hope y'all like it! There's some yummy pack interactions in here! And *spoiler alert* INTRO KATE ARGENT. enjoy and tell me what you think!!

Stiles pulled onto his street as he drummed his thumbs on the steering wheel. He wanted to say it felt like deja vu, (Wasn’t he just doing this a day or so ago?) but it was turning into more of a routine. A routine he could very easily get used to.

 He was rounding the corner to his house when he spotted a familiar red convertible sitting in the driveway. Stiles heart rate stuttered and he instinctively turned off the radio. He pulled up to the curb and slowly put it in park. _Well, this can’t be good. This isn’t fucking good at all._

 Stiles took the Bestiary 2.0  and shoved it in the dark recesses of his Jeep’s seats, nervously muttering curses.

Stiles knew Kate didn’t just “drop by”. It was true that she came around about once a year and stayed for a month to two. It was also true that her hunting expertise was always needed at these visits. There was the Kanima one year, the Alpha Pack the next, and even a sudden resurgence of newly bitten werewolves last year.  And of course Stiles knew who was the source of all that. His family was pretty sure too, but a certain Alpha had never been spotted. It seems like they stuck to The Code because they didn't have any proof. Or perhaps they just could never find Derek...

 And Stiles was also pretty positive that he knew what drew Aunt Kate to town this year.

Walking through the door,  he peeked his head around the corner of the hallway, craning his neck to catch a glimpse into the living room. It was silent as death and it made Stiles’ skin crawl. He continued into the kitchen and was met with a scene familiar to a procedural cop show. The island was littered with high glossed photos, maps, and manila folders. Red sharpie marks were circled on maps of the Preserve and dashed lines indicating they’ve been tracking the subject. Stiles gulped as he approached getting better looks at the crime scene photos. A heavy sinking weight as he looked at two folders with different headings: Op. Hale and Op. Omega 1.

Stiles grabbed the first folder without thinking and flipped it open. His eyes roamed the page memorizing every word, picture, and arrow. Derek’s profile caught from hundreds of yards away and frames capturing him half shifted were among the hundreds of photos. There were more photos of trails and broken twigs from where they’d tracked him. He continued flipping through the pictures before his heart leapt into his throat.

His eyes stared at the picture as the image burned itself into his mind. There were several copies at different sizes and lens. The first was a wide angle and obviously taken from a far distance. Another had been zoomed in and digitally enhanced. Normally that was Stiles’ expertise, yet he’d never seen this picture before. This lingering thought was washed away for now as the actual content of the picture coated him in a depressed desolation.

It was of the Hale House. The charred wood, broken windows and scorched porch were all slightly blurred, just barely out of focus. At the foot of the porch was a kneeling figure. Derek was collapsed on his knees, resting on the backs of his heels. His body was bent forward, his hands resting on the blackened steps. Stiles looked at the tense muscle in Derek's forearm, and he could just imagine his human nails digging in, causing grooves in the wood. He had his head tilted up towards the sky and the rivers shining on his cheeks couldn't be mistaken as rain. Stiles saw a bouquet of crisp white roses set on a step or two higher than Derek’s hands. Their shocking contrast with the soot made them radiate. Stiles hands shook, the edge of the picture crinkling from his grip.

He placed the picture among the others and took a step back. He ran a shaky hand over his face then roughly rubbed over his scalp. He stepped back up to the kitchen island and looked through the notes and observations and stayed clear of the photos for the time being.

 He pulled out his phone and snapped a million pictures, then emailed them to himself. He deleted the pictures from his camera roll and pocketed his phone. He glanced around once more before carefully placing everything back. He was about to head upstairs when the second folder called his name.

 He eased back over and flipped open the file. Another familiar face startling him.

 “Oh shit.”  Shots upon shots upon shots of Secret-Boy.  There were close ups as well as distance photos. Stiles stared at them in confusion for a few seconds as he flipped through them. _Okay, our parents have definitely flown the Coocoo’s nest. Seriously? Doing surveillance on Allison’s boyfriend? No wonder she kept it all a secret. Like God forbid she has a boyfri—_

 Stiles hand froze on one of the pictures. It showed an amber eyed Secret Boy with fangs and facial hair in all the wrong places, where he lacked eyebrows he made up in sideburns. Stiles then flipped the folder closed and looked at the title again: Op. Omega 1.

“Oh _SHIT_.”  Stiles quickly repeated his process for copying the file,  then ran upstairs. He paced in his room before unlocking his phone and dialing Allison. It rang twice before going straight to voicemail. He groaned before texting, _Goddammit Al. Pick up the phone._  He sent it and waited forty five seconds before calling again. She picked up. _Thank fuck._

 “Stiles?” Allison’s voice rang through the receiver and he could hear murmured noise in the background.

“Allison! Where are you?”

“Uh, at the movies, wh—”

“Are you with Secret Boy?”  

Pause.

“What.”

“Allison, just tell me. Are you with that guy you’ve been dating?”

“...Yeah, I am. Stiles what’s going on?” Her voice was rising in panic, having that almost inaudible quiver that Stiles hated.

“I’m assuming you know he’s a werewolf.” Silence. “Allison?”

“Yeah, I know.” Her voice was quiet.

“Al, this is important. You need to get home n—”

“I know what I’m doing Stiles! I can handle it.”

“Oh my god, listen to me for five sec—”

“Stiles, you have to trust me. You don’t understand—” Allison’s voice was rising with anger.

“ALLISON.” Stiles hated yelling at her but she wasn’t _getting it._ “Aunt _Kate_ is here. And there are fucking photos of your boyfriend all over the kitchen table. He’s in a fucking folder labeled _Operation Omega 1_. They are _hunting_ him. They know where his den is, they know where he’s hiding. They’re probably roaming around the Preserve as we—” Stiles nearly dropped the phone. He steadied his grip on it as he tripped over his own feet, running out the door. "Al, I gotta go. There's something–I'll tell you later. Just, hide Secret Boy, and... yeah. Hurry!"

 

"Stiles!"

 

He didn't hear the rest of her sentence as he ran down the stairs. It took him seconds to get to his Jeep and rev the engine. He sped down his street and made it to the preserve in less than ten minutes. Part of him told him to be subtle, to hike quietly out in case he bumped into his family. The other part wanted to scream Derek's name at the top of his lungs. He ran through the woods on his trail, hoping to god that Derek was either still in the East part of the Preserve and not trekking through the larger part on his way back home. Stiles sprinted through the woods, hoping his quickened heart rate and heavy breathing would be enough to tell Derek to come find him if he was anywhere near the area. He wasn’t even going to think about how nice it was that he hadn’t tripped and fallen on his face yet, talk about needing to knock on wood. The sun was setting and an orange hue bled through the trees. Any other time Stiles would have thought it pretty, but now it only hindered his vision, distorting the trees and bushes.

 

_Jesus Christ, if I get fucking lost...._

  


Stiles didn't finish the thought as he rounded the corner, tripping on a branch that was sticking out. The branch broke through his jeans and ripped his skin. He swore lightly as he rolled over and scrambled back up. _So much for being subtle_. He wasn’t too far now. He just had to make it to their spot. It wasn’t too far.

 

Stiles could feel the warm blood soaking his calf. _Come ON._ He skidded down the last dirt hill and had to leap over the small boulder from all the momentum. He slipped in the leaves but was able to remain upright. He whipped around a couple times trying to assess what was going on.

 

“Derek!” Stiles hissed into the evening air. He got no response. He waited five minutes. Ten. Fifteen.  Constantly calling Derek.   _He should BE here by now._ Stiles paced back and forth, his calf throbbing. “Fuck.” Stiles squatted down and pulled up his pant leg to examine the damage. He mainly stared at it blankly as thoughts flew through his mind at a hundred miles a second.

 

_What if they already have Derek? Fuck. Maybe they don’t. Oh god. What if they found out about the station? I need to warn Derek. I’ll just run back and swing by the station. Even if he’s not there, I can at least warn the pack.  What if Derek comes looking for me after I’ve left? Oh Shit, he’s going to smell my blood and oh holy god. I’ll just leave him a message. It’d be just my fucking luck that Kate and Gerard would stumble upon it.  Okay, so something not incriminating._

  


And that’s how he came up with the idea to scrawl a one-worded horror movie cliche on a rock in his own blood. Yeah, yeah, he knows. Not his brightest moment, but what was he supposed to write 'Hey my family's hunting you as we speak, I'm kinda fine--just ignore the blood--move the pack, get out of town.' Stiles really didn't have enough writing space or blood for that, okay? 

 

He pushed up his jeans, the denim already darkened in splotches, and smeared the blood onto the pads of his pointer and middle fingers. He mixed it with dirt and wrote “Run” across the smooth faced boulder he’d been resting against just days earlier. He repeated the process until he got enough coats that the message was actually legible. The edges of the letters were fuzzy, but all in all it did the job. 

 

He pushed the pant leg back down, taking one last look at the scrawled message before taking off back to his Jeep. His mind was racing as the brilliant orange horizon mellowed to a purple streaked watercolor, hints of red and pink just peeking out near the edges.

 

The Jeep roared to life and Stiles was thrown back into the present as he’d been lost in his chaotic thoughts. _When did I get to the Jeep?_ “Focus, Stiles!” He chanted to himself as he threw it into drive. He drove at a conspicuous speed and only bothered to slow down once he made it closer to town. He avoided the main roads, knowing his luck he’d most likely cross his family’s path, or you know, multiple of their paths considering how many of them were now prowling around the town. His phone vibrated in his pocket and he struggled to get it out with the seatbelt still on, all while keeping the Jeep in a straight line.

 

 _Incoming Call: Allison_  

“Hey, Al. I can’t really talk right now. Did you hide Secret-Boy?”

“Scott? Yeah, he’s here with me at the house.” _Did she just say—_

“At the HOUSE? ALLISON ARE YOU CRAZY?”

“Think about it, Stiles. They'll never look for him here.” He could practically see Allison rolling her eyes. But there was a beat of silence, too long. “I panicked. It was the only place I could think of.” Her voice had become timid; Stiles didn't have to be in the room with her to know that her head was downcast and an arm was wrapped across her chest.  

Stiles sighed. “Did you see the kitchen?” Silence. “Allison?”

“...Yes Stiles. I saw it." He could hear her shaky exhale before her voice steeled again, "Stiles, what the _hell_ is going on...” Stiles laughed but managed just to cover it up as a loud sigh.

“A lot.”

“Stiles—”

“Allison, I can’t talk. I’ll call you when I can. Cover for me. Tell them I went to go hang out with—” 'Not Isaac!,' His brain happily supplied “—Idontknowmakesomeoneup! Love you Al.” Stiles hung up before she could say anything else—or he for that matter—then powered off his phone and threw it into the backseat. His hands shook against the wheel and his breaths became shallow and quick, the double yellow line blurring as he continually became lost in his frantic thoughts. He resisted the urge to slam his head into the steering wheel. _No, you’re not having a panic attack. Nope. Just forget it. Okay? Okay. Pull it together. In....Out....In....Out...._

 

While maintaining his steady breathing, he shook out his shoulders as he continued down the road. Everything was happening too quickly and it was rattling Stiles to the core. As much as his breathing helped, his mind didn't stop. It constantly created new horrific scenarios and played them out. Over. and Over. And Over. His heart rate was hammering in his chest and he could barely focus on the one task at hand—warn Derek—let alone the thousand playing themselves out in his mind. He was seconds away from pulling over when he all but leapt for joy at seeing the seemingly unoccupied subway station. He parked a block away behind an abandoned shop and quickly looked around. The known places his family would hide were open so Stiles felt pretty confident that they hadn’t found the subway station. _Yet_.

 He limped-jogged to the backdoor where he’d watched the others enter before. The metal handle was cold in his hands; the door was unlocked and he barely had the chance to think of how unsafe that was before hands gripped onto his chest and threw him down the stairs. He heard his body hit each step before the pain registered. The stairs were old rusted metal and Stiles felt each edge dig into his skin. His healed ribs announced themselves as they were slammed against the sharp stairs. He felt warm streams run down his leg and droplets sprinkle his arm. It was terrifying how well he knew the sensations. 

 “Jesusfuckingchrist!” He groaned as he rolled over. His leg throbbed as a hot pain crawled through his muscles.

 “What are you doing here _Stiles_?” The gorgeous blond sneered, her high heel pining Stiles’ chest to the ground. _Erica_. That was the only thing that popped into his mind as he lay in agony. Stiles didn’t have time to think of a comeback or plea for his life before a growl thundered through the room. It was so loud the glass along the clerestory windows quivered, rattling against their old frames. Stiles looked up in time to see Erica dip her head in submission, her heel still digging sharply into Stiles’ chest. Stiles winced at the increased pressure and turned his head to the side. Boyd and Isaac were crouched in the corner looking towards the other side of the room. He followed their gaze to see Derek, wolfed out: red eyes and fangs bared. His arms hung actively at his sides, claws extended, his fists clenching and unclenching.

 

“Back away.” The words were practically unintelligible from the gruff growl that overtook them. Erica looked confused, but obeyed immediately. She removed her heel and retreated to the corner with Boyd and Isaac; her eyes widen in confusion and fear. Stiles rolled over onto his knees and spit out— _oh shit is that blood?_ Derek’s arms were around him and helping him up before Stiles couldn't even think about struggling to his feet on his own. Derek sat him down on an old metal folding table, and looked him over.

 

“Stiles, what the hell?”  Derek’s hands roamed over Stiles body, his fingers delicately touching each new cut and bump he’d acquired from falling down the stairs. Stiles wanted to say something to the tune of ' _Thank your little trigger happy beta over there, because _I didn't do this shit for fun thank you very much.'__ Stiles could have sworn he saw Derek's eyes widen before his mouth tightened, and Stiles could see the anger rippling through Derek's body. Derek clenched his fists, turning around, and roared. Stiles jumped in place and the betas cowered in the corner.  Stiles had heard werewolves howl and growl, he'd been to the 'interrogation' room his parents used to get information out of werewolves. He'd heard them angry, scared, pleaing, and he'd heard just about every vocation he'd been able to think of, but the roar that purged through the room had chilled Stiles to the bone. He'd never heard anything, human or not, so filled with raw emotion. Stiles' mouth hung agate. When Derek turned to face Stiles again, he, surprisingly, had returned to his human form, though the red eyes were still present.

 “Derek—”

“Shut up.” Derek licked his thumb and placed the saliva over the small cuts. His other hand dipped beneath Stiles’ shirt and held a firm grip on his hip. Stiles could feel the warmth radiating from that spot and course through his body as the pain slowly dissipated. Derek’s gaze jerked down to the blood soaked pant leg and dropped to his knees. He ripped the jean apart and inspected the wound. He shouted over his shoulder, “Get me the first aid kit.” All three scrambled up, running in different directions, then all stopped accordingly. Isaac looked toward the other two before glancing back at Derek sheepishly.

“Uh, Derek do we even _have_ a first aid kit?” Stiles saw Derek roll his eyes, looking as if he regretted every single decision that led him to being living this current situation. Stiles couldn’t stop the chuckle that erupted from his throat.

“It’s. In. My train car.” Each gritted word seemed to turn Derek’s crimson eyes more and more red.

“How many betas does it take to get a first aid kit?” Stiles laughed quietly through the sentence as Derek’s eyes flickered up to meet his, he smirked, the disapproving scowl from before still mildly present.

 “More than three apparently.” Derek turned over his shoulder and growled, “How complicated is it to get a fu—” Isaac came sprinting with a red ice box looking item and handed it to Derek. “Now leave.”  All three, more than happy to oblige, turned to leave and advanced toward the subway’s staircase to the outside.

 

“NO! Wait, don’t! You can’t leave.” Stiles voice echoed, his words bouncing off the walls and rebounding through the station. Even he was surprised by the loudness of his sudden outburst. Derek quirked an eyebrow, a small frown settling in. “That’s why I came here. You can’t leave. Not yet. You all have to leave _together_ , soon.” He focused his attention back on Derek. “Derek, my family, they’re hunting you, like seriously this time. They know you’re here. Well not _here_ here. They think you’re hiding out in the old Hale House. It won’t take them long to figure out you’re _here_ , though. They brought a team. My cousins, aunt. Everyone’s here. There were fucking maps and plans and pictures all over the damn kitchen. All the vans are gone. They’re probably at the Hale House now, there or over near the West Side. They’re also looking for an Omega, who just happens to be Secret Boy. So yeah, my sister’s dating a werewolf. And they’re hunting him, and she’s hiding him. At our fucking house. Where close to twenty hunters are now living for an extended period of time. ” Stiles took in a deep breath. Derek looked at him intently.

 

“What happened to your leg?” Stiles exhaled and rolled his eyes so hard his whole head followed suit.

“So that’s what you got out of all that? Really?” Derek’s eyes narrowed, expecting an answer to his question. “Oh my god, seriously? I went looking for you at...our place. On the East Side. And I tripped over a branch or something and it stabbed me. I’m fine. It’s no big deal.” As Stiles spoke, Isaac timidly had handed Derek a wet washcloth, Derek took it, using it to gently clean the wound. As he pressed lightly into the deep cut, his eyebrows quirked in confusion. He pulled the pant leg back down for a moment, his fingers grazing over the hole in the denim, before pulling it back up and looking at the wound.

 “Why is there _dirt_ in it?” Stiles opened his mouth then shut it. Derek looked up at the lack of response. “Stiles...”

 “Well, you weren’t there and I wanted to make sure that if you came after I’d left, you wouldn’t freak out that you smelt my blood everywhere, so I kindofeftyouanote.”He smashed the last words together hoping Derek wouldn’t hear him correctly. No such luck.

 “IN YOUR OWN BLOOD?”   _Fuck_. Derek’s eyes flashed red, his fangs elongating for a moment.

“Well, the blood wasn’t showing up as well as I’d thought, so I mixed it with some dirt. The end result was pretty satisfactory.”

 “Stiles.”  Stiles nodded in response, accepting whatever lecture was sure to follow. Derek remained silent as he continued to clean the wound. “I don’t think it’s going to need stitches.” So Derek was going to drop it. Stiles could roll with that. 

 “Unlike the left side of my torso?” Stiles commented thinking back to their first meeting.

“Noticed those, then.”

“They’re fucking stitches. Of course I noticed.” Derek rolled his eyes, then placed a hand over Stiles' calf. The warm sensation spread through the muscles in his leg and thigh and Stiles squinted in pain for a half a second before that disappeared as well. The hot coals of heat started to cool down until only the feeling of skin on skin contact remained. “Thanks.” Stiles smiled and Derek nodded.  

 “Your sister’s dating the Omega.”  _Back to business, good._

“Yep. It’s a really horrible, cliche version of Romeo and Juliet.” Derek was quiet for a moment, a flicker of _—was that humor?—_ brightening his eyes, before his scowl once again settled in place. 

“Does she actually love him?” The question caught Stiles off guard.

“Well, I’m assuming so. She accepts him fangs, forehead, and all. And you don’t just pretend that for no reason.” Derek suppressed the growl that threatened in his gut.

 “She’s not hunting him?”  Stiles was now the one to practice some eyebrow yoga as they scrunched together.

“Uh, _no_.”

“How sure are you?” Stiles jerked his head back and narrowed his eyes.

“Like over one hundred fucking percent sure. Besides who the fuck would do that? Could do that. That’s...That’s...oh my god it makes me sick to my stomach just thinking about.” Derek’s frown softened, and he let his shoulders relax. Stiles heartrate remained steady.

 “Call her. Tell her the Omega can join our pack until this whole thing blows over.”  All three betas looked at one another, but remained silent.

 “I turned off my phone and left it in the Jeep. I didn't want my parents to track it.”

“Are they following you?”

Stiles huffed a snort, “Not yet.”

“Why would they? Do they...suspect you at all?”

 “Like I said not yet. Well I don’t think. I looked at the files. Neither Allison nor I are in any of the pictures or mentioned in any of it. But when looking at the surveillance photos, all the ones that needed to be edited, like zoomed in and enhanced, I’d never seen before and that’s about the only thing they trust me with. _All_ the photos, not just the edited ones, were ones I’d never seen before and they wouldn't have had time to hide anything, so what was there, is what they have. I don’t know why, but they left in a hurry. And they left all the sudans, took only the SUVs. They’re onto _something_ , and they don’t want me to know about it. So whatever that means...” Stiles trailed off, looking up into Derek's green eyes. His lungs let go of a heavy exhale they'd been holding in. 

 “What did the files say?” Derek nodded, before looking away in thought, and began pacing. Stiles sat perched on the table, the mourning picture of Derek and the white flowers flashing in his mind. Stiles swallowed and noticed how Derek moved slightly closer towards him.

 “Uh, mostly observations. Tracking where you’ve been moving. They keep catching you near the Hale House, and on the edge of the West Side. If they’re going to make a move it’s either tonight, or in a couple weeks. They wouldn’t try anything too close to the full moon.”

“Tonight’s the night before full moon...”

“Normally, I’d say that we shouldn’t have to worry because of that, but...” Stiles trailed off thinking of how Kate was notorious for only showing up momentarily before shit hit the fan. At the pause of silence, Derek looked back toward Stiles. Thinking he’d missed what Stiles had said, he cursed himself for getting stuck on Stiles’ usage of pronouns. _We_. Derek pushed the thought aside.

“Are you going back there?” Derek said the words gruffly as if his return home personally offended him. _Which it probably does come to think of it._

“Home? Not this second but eventually? Yeah.  And by eventually, I mean the sooner the better. I don’t know when they’ll get home, but I should be there when they do, or get there shortly after. It’ll alleviate some suspicion and then I can keep a close eye on them.”

 Derek nodded solemnly.“What time will they be back?”

 “To be honest they’re probably home now…or will be in a few minutes.” Stiles shrugged. “Or they could get home close to midnight. Hunters. More nocturnal than you’d think.”

 “Hadn’t noticed.” Derek deadpanned. And while Stiles wanted to chastise him for humor in a time like this, he also sadly noticed the missing smirk than normally accompanied Derek’s sass.

 “Contrary to popular belief, you’re more civilized out in the woods.” Derek rolled his eyes.

 “You said they haven’t started tracking you _yet_.”

 “Yeah. Yet as in I’ve never really been a crowd favorite. Especially in the La Casa de Argent. My mom’s looking for an excuse to kick me out of the family. Gerard’s got his fingers crossed for a public hanging, but you know… we all got our kinks.” Stiles tried to be nonchalant but the anxiety continued to crawl over his skin. “And well, this time I’m actually guilty. I’m aiding and embedding  a werewolf. An alpha, at that. And his pack.” Stiles chuckled and shook his head. “But hey, I could be dating one…”

 “You could.” Derek smirked slightly and Stiles heart leapt into his throat. _He just meant that as like ‘yeah it could be worse.’ Not like ‘yeah, you could totally tap this.’ Right? Yeah. Maybe. Oh my god why am I this concerned with this NOW. But seriously you don’t let someone platonically lay on top of you for over ten minutes right? Fuck. And he can totally hear my heartbeat right now…all fucking four of them can. Pull it together, Stiles. If you have any shred of dignity left, you’ll just control your-fucking-self._

 “So yeah, the Omega, aka Secret Boy, whose name is apparently _Scott_ , is in my house. And it’s great that he can join your pack for a while, seriously I’m not trying to be a—”

 “Sarcastic little shit.” Derek raised an eyebrow as he tilted his chin. Stiles’ eyes narrowed as he fought the urge to smile.

 “—I was going to say a Debbie Downer, but anyways, how are we supposed to get him from my house to here. Yeah, sure _**I**_   can waltz right into my house, but what’s he supposed to do. ‘Oh, excuse me people-that-would-like-to-mount-my-furry-head-on-a-plaque-and-hang-it-over-the-fireplace, don’t mind me. I was just leaving. Oh wait, I got an idea, we can do that but _I’ll escort_ him out. It’ll be no problem then.”  

 “I’ll come with you to get him.”

 “Oh now _that’s_ a brilliant idea. I have one werewolf too many in my house and your solution is to add another. There’s close to twenty people with guns and arrows and godknowswhatelse with the sole purpose of killing both of you. Though I’m pretty sure _you’re_ priority fucking numero uno, compadre.”

 “Have any better plans?” Derek crossed his arms over his chest with a smug look creasing his forehead. Stiles opened and closed his mouth multiple times before throwing his hands up in defeat. He groaned loudly.

 “NO. But this is stupid. Like seriously not smart. Just wait. I’ll figure something out. The Blood Thirsty Brigade will probably be out again tomorrow. We can probably do something in that time frame.” Derek nodded eventually.

 “Okay. How are we going to know when that time frame is?” Stiles wanted to punch himself in the face.

 “I don’t know! I’ll just kind of hang around and I’ll notify you or something.”

“How are you going to do that?”

“Use the fucking bat signal! I don’t know.” Stiles heard a chuckle from the corner of the room. He glanced to see small smiles on all the betas faces and Erica cover her mouth.

“Do you have something against phones?”

“My family has no problem tracking me on my GPS or just straight up hiring a tail to follow me around. They have no qualms about reading through my texts, or tracing my calls.” Derek rolled his eyes. He pulled a sleek black phone from his back pocket and handed it to Stiles.

 “Fine. Then use mine. Call or text any of the betas. I’ll get the message.”

“Okay, okay. So tomorrow. Tomorrow’s the full moon.”

“It is.”

“Holy God there’s an Omega sitting in my sister’s room and the full moon is tomorrow. Do you think he can control it? What if my family stays home tomorrow and you can’t come and get him? Do you think you could sneak in tomorrow night if our plan all goes to hell?”  Derek’s eyebrow jumped up, a small frown crinkling his forehead. “ _What_?”

 “You’re worried about werewolves in your house during the full moon, so you’re inviting an Alpha to come solve the problem. What did you say, you had one werewolf too many, and the solution to add another was ridiculous?” Stiles’ jaw dropped as he tried to think of a response and understand his own thoughts. Only one thing was evident.

 “Yeah, well, you’re different.”

* * *

Derek had finished healing Stiles’ calf wound and walked him to the back exit. Stiles was a moment away from hugging a goodbye when he realized how not okay that was. He laughed at his own stupidity which got him a weird, confused look from Derek. The look seemed to ask “ _What_?” Stiles had shaken his head.

  _“Nothin. Um. Thanks for the werewolf mojo magic healing.I’ll call or text you, or...er them,  if anything changes or yeah. Okay, cool. ”_

  _“Yeah, messages not written in your blood would be preferable.”_

Stiles now pulled away from the curb and onto the main drag. He was about three miles from the station when he noticed a pair of headlights in his rearview mirror. It was near dark out and he checked Derek’s phone to see it was close to nine. He nonchalantly checked his mirrors and cursed when one of the street lights revealed the bright red color of the car tailing him. He continued down the road until he reached Blockbuster as he sing songed in a high pitched voice _I am so fucked. Fuckety, fucked fuck. I’m so fucking fuuuuucked.._ He pulled into the parking lot and jumped out of the car. He saw the red convertible drive past but he knew it would only be a short while before it was parked next to his Jeep.

He was perusing the action movies section before he ended up grabbing the third part of the Bourne Trilogy and found himself grabbing a copy of How to Train Your Dragon. He’d promised Allison a movie night a while ago, it was about time he came through. Right?

Stiles paid for the rentals then headed over to Starbucks less than a block away. He thanked his lucky stars that they stayed open until 10pm during summer. He left his Jeep parked where it was and was happy to see that all the spaced around it lacked a certain red convertible.

 DVDs in hand, Stiles nervously grabbed a coffee and set it on a table while he repositioned the multiple things in his hands. He was still rearranging the items when Kate appeared seemingly out of nowhere. Stiles jumped and dropped both DVDs and half heartedly thanked the Divine for not dropping his coffee. _But seriously putting a fucking bell on her would be great. So if we could work on that...._

 “Shit. Hi Aunt Kate!” She smiled and handed Stiles his dropped DVDs. Stiles had only now truly noticed how shark-like her features were. She was more predatory than any normal human and that was for damn sure. Stiles was beginning to truly believe in his whole _monsters come from what’s on the inside_ mentality he’d been thinking about the past couple weeks.

 “Hey Kiddo. What are you up to?” _Subtle._

“Oh, uh just grabbing some movies. I promised Allison we’d have a movie night. You know. Sister-Brother-Twin bonding.” She raised her eyebrows and nodded enthusiastically.

 “Where’ve you been all day? I got here pretty early and you weren’t around. And it’s practically 9 and you haven’t been home yet?”

 “I went on a hike this morning. And um got a little lost because I wasn’t really paying attention to where I was going. You know me...”

 “Allison said you were hanging out with Isaac?” _Really Allison? I tell you to make someone up and you use my own excuse. That would work for a normal person but you should know by now I’m anything but normal. I’m an idiot who doesn't think before he speaks!_

 “Isaac? Nah, I don’t know the kid too well. He was in my chem class last year but I don’t really know him. I was with Danny.” _Speaking of not thinking before you speak, DANNY’S IN NEW YORK WITH HIS FAMILY YOU ASS._

 “Huh.”  Kate smirked and Stiles wanted to be thankful that she was leaving his shitty excuse alone but couldn’t help but notice her likeness to that of the Joker, which probably just screwed what little reserve of composure he had to shit. “Heard you quit training. Moving on to bigger things?” _Well, fuck._

 “Oh well, I think I’ll just stick to the behind the scenes stuff, you know. We all know I’m not really quite cut out for the whole hunting thing.” Kate’s smile curled up baring her white teeth. Stiles controlled the convulsion that worked its way up his spine, playing it off as a shift in weight.

 “Oh, I don’t know Stiles. Your notebook here says you’re a hell of a lot smarter than most.” Kate reached into the leather messenger bag she had hanging off her shoulder. Stiles saw his old scheme composition book and his mouth ran dry. He opened it up to respond, to lie, to _something_ , but his mind was blank. He was stuck. “Hey, your secret’s safe with me. Actually, I’m really proud. I always thought Allison would be the next big hunter in the family, the next me if I do say so myself. But kid, I was looking through these this morning, and they are absolutely diabolical! I should have known you weren’t into the whole Argent way of hunting. From the beginning you’ve always disliked it, now I get it’s because you understand how the Code protects the Monsters, holds us back from protecting the innocent little sheep with the wool over their eyes. Kiddo, I should have known you’d get it. C’mon, we got loads to talk about.”

 Kate somehow steered them to a table outside. The summer air was warm and the strung up lights added a happy atmosphere. It was so completely revolting compared to the turmoil churning in Stiles’ stomach.

 “So, I’m just going to lay my cards on the table, Kid. I saw you heading off into the woods earlier this morning, and boy did you look like a man on a mission. I was going to follow you but figured I should at least stop by the house first. And yeah okay, I breached a couple boundaries by snooping in your room, I’ll apologize for that now, but to be honest after finding this I don’t really regret it! Stiles, I can’t believe you been hiding this from everyone! I mean...anyways. So I found this behind your headboard and I couldn't help but look through it, I mean I was already snooping so what was the point if I didn't actually learn anything right? Well, after reading it through I realized that you had big plans kid. BIG plans. And what do I find but that you’ve already tested a few out and learned from your mistakes! You even wrote notes about Hale’s personality and his weaknesses and how to use those against him!

 “I see you’ve only tested out two schemes but already Scheme C—right?—the second one, already went much better! Now, I get why you aren’t telling your dad or anyone, I totally get it. My brother’s...well, you know. ‘The Code’ ‘The Code’ blah blah blah. But not telling Allison? That’s when I knew you meant business.” She smiled proudly and Stiles sat stone still, still too shocked to form a full coherent response. “I know what you’re doing with Hale.” Stiles stuttered once then twice before,

“What?”

 Kate rolled her eyes and genuine fondness spilled from her gaze. Her pink lips quirked into a smug smile.

“Don’t worry, Stiles. Your secret’s safe with me. You don’t have to give me all the details, because I know them all already. Though you’ve played it especially smart. I’d hate to say smarter than I had, but of course you had a more difficult route considering....”

“Kate, I don’t—”

“Stiles, it’s okay, you don’t have to defend yourself to me. I already know. Let me guess, you’re earning Derek’s trust, making him think you actually care about him so you can get closer until you’ve perfected the foolproof plot from gathering as much information from him as you can.  I know because you’re doing the exact same thing I did close to seven years ago.” Stiles suddenly felt his heart stop. He could feel the blood in his veins cool as if time really had stopped and the horrifying puzzle pieces began to fit together.

 “Stiles, I think it’s time I told you what actually happened with the Hale fire.”

* * *

 

 Stiles sat and let the words wash over him, drown him as each syllable pulled him further and further into the deep recesses of the sea. Kate described how she’d seduced Derek and convinced him she loved him, how she tricked him into loving her. She praised herself for wrapping Derek around her finger and how she had him whipped and at her beck-and-call. She mocked Derek for being so inept and stupid for falling for it, for letting her waltz right up to the house undetected and burn it and everyone in it to the ground. She lamented about not being able to completely rid the earth of the Hale pack, seeing as it was ‘such bad luck’ that Derek and Laura had been in school at the time.

 She mocked Derek further for his stupidity to fall for the same thing a second time, let alone fooled by a child—no offense to Stiles of course. She admitted she had been more easily able to manipulate him, being older, more experienced, trailing him along with ideas of love and sex and how they somehow meant more when the two were intertwined. She laughed, cackled at the look of confusion, she described, that had crawled over Derek’s face when he had heard about his family and the fire.

  _He didn't believe it. How could anyone believe it?_ Stiles thought in horror. The told memory of a laughing Derek as he watched his sister claw into a pine tree for the sake of proving herself played through his mind. To think that had been only a year or two before the fire. Before Derek’s entire family had been erased from existence.  

 Kate told the story like looking back on a fond memory of a gay old outing to the movies. As she told it, she relived it. She smiled as she described how she heard the screams and howls echoing through the Preserve, how pleased she was because she knew she had rid the world of eleven monsters. All the while, each word, each sentence, threw back previous conversations back into focus.

  _This is why we hunt monsters, Stiles. Derek Hale burned his whole family alive just so he could become Alpha. When the power automatically shifted to Laura, he killed her next. This is why he hunt, Stiles._

  _Do remember who Derek Hale is right? He's the guy who burned his whole family alive so he could become an Alpha._

  _He BURNED HIS WHOLE FAMILY, Stiles!_

  _“I hate my family.” “I hate your family too.”_

  _“Fuck the code. I think it’s just an excuse. A bunch of crap.” “Pretty much.”_

  _I can’t really see a guy that saved his own pursuer, me, mercilessly burn his entire family alive. It just doesn’t make any sense._

  _It wouldn’t surprise me if a hunter blew into town and started the Hale fire and just blamed it on the lone survivor._

  _“Do you think ‘Secret-Boy’ is safe? Secret relationships are not good.”_

  _“Your sister’s dating the Omega. Does she actually love him? She’s not hunting him?”_

  _“How sure are you?”_

 

The picture of Derek collapsed in grief at the foot of his burnt husk of a home hit Stiles even harder now that he realized what had actually happened, that in addition to mourning over the eleven individuals, the eleven family members he had, Derek blamed himself for all of their deaths.

 Kate was just finishing reminiscing. Stiles cleared his voice when he realized how he was going to have to play this. He miraculously found a small reserve of strength to speak.

 “Didn’t Laura survive the fire?” Kate’s eye lit up, as a part of the story she’d missed had been reminded.

 “Oh, yeah. Myself and couple hunters came down to clean some things up, we happened to run into her. I hate leaving loose ends and figured kill two birds one stone.”

 “Why didn't you tell anyone? I mean that deserves huge bragging rights, right?” The words tasted like blood in his mouth. Her smile widened.

 “Oh, see if only our family had more Stiles’! Hey, well one, I’m not into bragging, but mainly Chris—your dad—he’s so caught up with The Code, he’s forgotten what the point of being a hunter is. Did I have direct evidence that the Hale’s were killing or turning people? No. But they’re werewolves, monsters. It was only a matter of time. What are we supposed to do? Just wait for them to slaughter some poor innocent ignorants? And with a pack that big, it was just a matter of time. And with me not being able to take out Laura and Derek with the rest of the mutts, we still had loose ends to tie up and it would be even harder with them on the lookout. By blaming it on Derek it just focused the family, reminded everyone of what’s really at stake when you’re dealing with savages.” She shook her head. “Stiles, this makes me so proud. Honestly, I thought you were going to grow up, go to college, try to become one of those ignorants, those people who walk around happily blind to reality. But here you are, better than I could ever have hoped.

 “And don’t you see how fitting this is? To end it the same way it started? Kiddo, I don’t want to step on your toes and get too involved in your first solo hunt, but will you promise me to at least keep me a little updated on what’s going on if you don’t want me involved?”

 Stiles inhaled calmly.

  
“Hey, like you said. It’s fitting to have it end the same way it started.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Awwww Snap. Shit's going down. Prepare yourselves and put down the pitchforks. I'll be posting again on Sunday! Remember, if you kill me no next chapter....so yeah keep that mind. please...


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is a little late in the day! I had a kind of a crazy night. It was a really late night/really early morning and while it's practically 3:30pm I woke up less than couple hours ago and am going on little to no sleep! So this chapter hasn't been _thoroughly_ edited, though i did do a once over! I'm sorry i haven't been able to read/respond to any comments recently! I've just been super busy and stressed out and wahh. 
> 
> so here's a bit of a longer chapter, I think. It seemed longer when i read it just now to post, but i'm also a little groggy and am working off of a cupcake for "breakfast" (but i mean is it really breakfast if it's 2:30 in the afternoon?) 
> 
> i hope you guys like it and definitely let me know what you think! thanks so much! ~xoxoSasha

 Derek paced the cement floor, a steady growl reverberating through his chest. Isaac and the other betas constantly peering up at him before looking back at one another.

 “So he’s your—”

“Yes.”  Derek continued to pace. Isaac looked at Erica, who avoided his gaze.

“But he’s _human_.” Derek shook his head, partially annoyed that they apparently needed to have this conversation _now_.

“A mate doesn’t have to be a wolf. A mate is based upon compatibility.”

“So like a soul mate?” Derek rolled his eyes, anxiety making his skin crawl and yet he was having an afterschool special, werewolf edition. He got it. The conversation was important, but why it had to be discussed now, because of him...well...Derek would have preferred different circumstances.

 “Not what _you_ think of a soul mate. The wolf part of you finds a mate, someone that both your human side and wolf side can be compatible with. It chooses a person that makes you happier, stronger, better. Someone who can be your anchor. They strengthen all your abilities: sight, smell, hearing, healing, everything. But just like human relations it isn't always mutual. Wolf A can find a mate in Wolf B, but Wolf B can reject the bond. With humans, it’s...different.” Isaac listened intently, waiting for Derek to continue. “Humans don’t recognize the bond unless it’s revealed to them. They don’t feel the pull or the connection unless they know to look for it.”

 Isaac’s eyebrows furrowed as he kicked the empty box crate with his foot.

 “Why can’t they feel it?”

 “It’s not that they _can’t_ feel it.” Derek said backtracking, “They just don’t... well...They feel it at first, but they don’t know what it is or what it means. So they brush it off. Just like when you put on a shirt, the nerve endings in your skin feel the shirt at first but you don’t feel that for the entire time you wear the shirt. Your brain notices the nerve endings at first but then ignores them because the information is essentially useless. Human brains don’t understand the bond so when they first feel the connection their mind categorizes it as useless and ignores the connection.” A thought came to Derek as he quickly added, “Or misinterprets it.”

 “But _you_ still feel the connection right?” Derek nodded in response. “So you said a person can reject the bond? Does that mean you can have more than one mate?”

 “The purpose of the mate is to find compatibility, so there are multiple, possible mates...”

 “It sound’s like there’s a ‘but’ in there.”

 “There are mates, and then there’s your _Mate_.” Derek attempted to stress the significance. “Legends say that while there are multiple mates that would work for a werewolf, there is a specific ‘Mate’, and its definition is closer to what you’re familiar with: a soul mate.”

 “But that’s just legend?”

 “My parents believed they were Mates, soul mates.” Isaac nodded.

 “So you think Stiles is a _Mate_?” Isaac stressed the word, making the capital letter pronounced. Derek shrugged because at this point he really had no clue, or so he told himself. Isaac was quiet for a moment, mulling everything over. Suddenly a smirk appeared on his face; Derek groaned internally at the sight. “So he’s the ‘the situation’ you’ve been dealing with?”  All the lame excuses and one sentence explanations Derek had been throwing at his pack to explain his constant disappearances. He’d never lied. If finding out an Argent was your mate wasn’t a situation, Derek didn’t know what was. Derek’s mouth tightened as he stopped the smile from spreading across his lips from just thinking about it. That was a good enough answer for Isaac.  “Wait how long have you known that he’s been your mate?”

Derek actively thought back to the first time he met Stiles, tried to place when he’d known. His wolf had known. He’d been passing through, inattentively marching through the woods needing some air. He’d been pulled to a path he rarely took, steady thrum of a heartbeat pulsing through the forest. He’d followed it mindlessly, his footfalls beating to the thrum of a heartbeat that rang like a forgotten melody through Derek’s whole body. His anguished thoughts of grief, anger, and most of all worry melting away. Gone were the vivid images of white paint melting from the burning wood and the scent of burning flesh overriding the ear shattering screams of his sisters and brothers, his mother and father. The steady beat, the already familiar rhythm chased them away.

 It pulled him from the shadows, the warm sound embracing him more and more, the closer he got. But the rhythm had changed, faltered. It beat too fast, then slowed all at once. Once Derek thought he’d picked up on the new rhythm it changed once more. The melody played harsh notes, the meter had disintegrated. Just as the once steady beat slowed to almost a complete stop, it exploded. It rattled and shook at an intensity that had Derek gasping for breath. He charged forward, the jackhammer of a heart beat surging him forward. Fear crawled up Derek’s throat, he could feel his claws extending, his shoulder blades shifting. He was shifting without any conscious effort and he was struggling to stop it.

 An injured howl erupted from his lungs, short and quick, as scent of copper filled his nose. But it wasn’t copper. When he broke through the trees, a large pile of pennies wasn't waiting for him. He stumbled upon a now feeble, yet startled heartbeat, trapped in the same scene as the blood dripping into the warm dirt of the season. His fingers, claws, were slashing apart the devilish net without a thought. A low growl tearing itself through his body the entire time. It was then that he’d noticed the bond, recognised it for what it’d was. It was as his human fingers untangled the gangly teen from the trap that he’d recognized the pale face. Stiles Argent.   

 The horrified thoughts of ‘Argent, a hunter’ were beaten senseless from the multiple terrified panicked screams of ‘he’s going to die’ beating around his head. He ignored them all, working on instinct alone, but the bond had formed.  Derek ignored it, ignored it all as best as he could, as he tried to untangle the delusional Stiles. The delusional Stiles that was frantically mumbling about his hatred for the murderous Alpha Hale and his vivid plan to better the world by ridding it of him. It was then that the gangly teen, Stiles, had been torn to shreds by a trap intended for him became evident.

 But the melody beat on. The familiar jubilant rhythm knocked at his chest as he held the Stiles’ crumpled body in his arms. Derek’s veins turned black as he navigated through trees and rocks, along an almost forgotten trail. As the crease in Stiles’ forehead smoothed and Derek’s legs grew weak from the amount of pain flooding through his body, Derek gasped in elated relief. The bond tugged harder.

He had thought it was a fluke, a rush of emotions as his conflicted brain pulled him in two different directions. But the connection grew stronger and stronger. Derek felt it grow as he carried the now limp, but pain-free body in his arms. He felt the tethered feeling as he laid Stiles down on his rarely used mattress in his old house. He lied to himself, told himself that it wasn’t what he believed it to be, as if bringing Stiles to the charred remains of his family home was not enough to prove the bond wasn’t a figment of his imagination. He ignored that having Stiles in the old home felt right, like the hollowed out husk was now beating with life. He pretended that he didn’t notice that the healing worked faster, that he didn't know what that meant.  He told himself it wasn’t _that_ , couldn’t be _that_. But in Stiles’ weak state, when he woke up and all the fear, pain, and desolation erupted from him, Derek felt it. Felt it with the same white, hot intensity that Stiles felt. And he knew.

He was in utter disbelief, but there was no use trying to deny it. His Mate was an Argent. An Argent set on killing him, nonetheless. With the rush of emotions and the scent of the burnt wood from the wave of memories engulfing him, he didn’t have the stability to think of the irony.

 His true Mate was an _Argent_.

 But he knew this was real this time; he could feel the difference. This was nothing like before, nothing like what he thought he’d had with Kate.  He wasn’t mistaken this time. He knew the difference and felt it in his bones, in the rush of his blood, and down to the very fiber of his being. Stiles Argent was his Mate. And what was he going to do?

He remembered Stiles’ banged up body listen as it eased back into unconsciousness. Stiles’ mere existence seemed to be the control over Derek’s. Derek’s breathing fell into Stiles’ haggard rhythm.  His heart tried to match that of Stiles’ irregularly fast pace. Stiles had become the moon controlling Derek’s tides.

 Now, Derek laughed knowing Stiles would make some joke about moons and wolves and sentiment and god knows what else he’d throw in. The melody growing dimmer and dimmer as Stiles drove farther way, yet beating steady and strong.  Derek played the tune in his head, his heart accompanying him.

 

Isaac smiled shyly and retreated back to his own train car, realizing his question had been forgotten, knowing he’d lost Derek somewhere amongst the talk of mates.  It was a little off putting, warm happiness radiating off Derek. They’d gotten accustomed to to his silent brood. They were a close pack. They knew about each other’s hardships and struggles, it was what had brought them together. They needed each other and they supported one another. They encouraged each other’s growth and they’d come a long way.

 

Boyd was probably the best adjusted. At the time, he went through about a two day rebellious phase, of showing off his new found abilities, but it was minor and had simmered down quickly. Boyd found peace in the pack, with Erica, with Isaac, with Derek. It was if the unity of the pack and each individual person was different source of resolve for him.

 Isaac had grown into his paws, as well. He heart rate still quickened when he thought too much about confined spaces. His habit of wearing heavy coats and scarves to school and out and about even in the early days of September was still not a fashion choice either; Isaac might never get over the anxiety of feeling cold. Isaac had a ways to go when it came to recovery, but he  wasn’t the weak damaged victim he’d once been, and he wasn’t the power hungry bully anymore either. He’d come a long ways.

 Erica was working through her issues, and she’d worked through a majority of them. She still suffered from some lingering insecurities, though they weren’t as centered around herself now. She didn’t admit it, but she was terrified of losing the pack. She hated change, and she hated surprises. Isaac in no way condoned how she’d dealt with Stiles, but he understood the fear that had fueled it. There was a reason Isaac had no problem hunkering down in an abandoned subway station, as long as they were all together.

 They all had healed, or at least begun to heal, all but Derek. He’d rarely opened himself up to his betas. They knew the horror stories at surface level, and sometimes Derek revealed glimpses into deeper waters. These were rare and almost flippant in their occurrences.

 But this along with Derek’s mood had changed dramatically in the span of weeks.  All the betas had noticed his change in demeanor. The leaving at all hours of the night and day were a not so subtle inclination of something being awry, but Derek had never been a normal Alpha, so it hadn’t been a dead giveaway either. The smirks that plastered Derek’s face whenever he returned or whenever he went to leave _were_ however.

 Erica was sprawled on Isaac’s bed, her legs climbing the walls as she lay upside down.

 “I don’t like this whole ‘Stiles’ thing.” She said as she looked up at the curved metal ceiling of the car.

 “Why not?” Isaac said as he leaned against one of the standing poles within the car. She rolled her eyes and tilted her head so she could make eye contact.

“Uh, I don’t know Isaac. It’s not like he’s a hunter or—oh wait. That’s exactly what he is.”

“He didn’t have to come warn us about his family, but he did.”

“How do we know it isn’t some sort of trap?”

“Derek trusts him. And I trust Derek. So, that’s good enough for me. Don’t you trust, Derek?” Erica shifted and avoided his eyes before mumbling a ‘Yeah.’ It was loud enough for Isaac to hear the validity in her admission.

 “And you’ve noticed.”

“Noticed what.”  

Isaac raised an eyebrow, leaving Erica to sigh exaggeratedly.

“Yeah, I’ve noticed.” She paused looking at the paint that was chipping off the metal bars. “I heard you two.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah.”

 

Erica and Isaac were quiet for several minutes. The change settling into the air. Isaac waited until the panic that clung to Erica’s skin dissipated before kicking her out.  

 “Well, we’re going to be trapped in here for a few days, so get the hell _off_  my bed and go bother Boyd.” Isaac threw his jacket at her as she continued to relax. She groaned as the leather covered her face, and threw back at him as she rolled off the bed. She ran a hand through Isaac’s hair before mumbling, “Laters” and hopping off of the train-car.

 Isaac jumped on the worn mattress, the springs squeaking under the weight, and closed his eyes as he thought about the evolution of Stiles Argent: how he was once just Stiles, the kid that smiled at everyone and cracked jokes all throughout class, making fifth period chemistry bearable. Only one day, he wasn’t just Stiles; he’d become Stiles Argent, the new generation of hunters, murderers, who would have _his_ name, Isaac’s, on their list if they only knew what he was. Stiles Argent had been someone to avoid at all costs and he’d been cautioned by Derek about the Argent Family and their blood thirsty culture.  But that was never the Stiles he saw in Chem, or in the halls, and it wasn’t the Stiles that willingly was thrown down a flight of stairs to warn them. The Stiles that was here bantering with an almost offensive amount of sass--to Derek of all people--wasn’t the one who was to be avoided.

 Isaac folded his arms and placed them behind in his neck.

 Maybe the supernatural world he’d been thrust into wasn’t so black and white like he’d thought, but just varying shades of grey.  

 

* * *

Stiles held the door open for Kate as they walked into the Argent family home. He managed a smile before bounding up the stairs to Allison’s room. Stiles was elated that Kate was one person whose suspicion he didn't have to worry about. If she took the heat off of Stiles, the rest would follow—well, most likely. Gerard would at least back off, trusting his star pupil.

 _His star pupil. My god, if only he knew what Kate had done. Or maybe he did._ Stiles felt his stomach churn at the thought: _That’s probably why she’s his favorite._ Whether Kate told him or not, Stiles didn’t know, but he was certain that Gerard knew regardless.

He quickly rapped his knuckles on the door three times before he heard the door unlock. He checked the hallway before slipping into Allison's room. He closed the door and locked it before turning around. He jumped back, his body slamming up against the door as Secret Boy stood in front of him, Allison nowhere in sight.

 "Oh my god. Hi." Stiles yammered as he pulled himself off of the door. Scott stood in front of him and ran a hand through his hair.

 "Hey. Um I'm Scott. And you must be Stiles."

 "Yep. Uh nice to finally meet you I guess." Stiles nodded, as if agreeing with his own statement. “Wait, uh how’d you know—” Stiles pointed to the now closed bedroom door. Secret Boy—err, Scott,  looked sheepish.

 “Oh, you—um—smell kind of like your sister. Really similar, actually.”

“Oh.”

“That and you kind of smell like werewolves. The Alpha, actually. I’ve said ‘actually’ a lot.”  Scott whispered as Stiles laughed. He had been dreading having to tell Allison about Derek and had been giving her the out of ‘well at least she isn’t involved with werewolves’. It was looking like they were both in the same boat, yet Stiles still had the inkling that Allison wasn’t going to take to the whole ‘I’m in love with the Alpha’ thing all that well. What’s a little more procrastination though?

 “Where’s Allison?” Scott shrugged.

“She left a little while ago, looking for you I think. She was worried that you weren’t answering your phone.” _Which is still off in my car..._

 “Oh shit.” Stiles shoved his hands in his front pockets, then added for Scott “I turned it off.”  His hands moved to the pockets of his jacket,  grasping crumbs, gum wrappers, and an old receipt. “How long since she left?”

“Less than a half hour.”

“Okay. Umm, “ Stiles’ left hand felt his back pockets and pulled out Derek’s sleek black phone. He quickly sent a text off to Allison, telling her to come home as soon as possible. He  figured he should take a picture of himself to attach as well so she wouldn’t be too concerned about the unknown number he was texting her from. Last second he turned to Scott,

“Can you maybe pretend to strangle me for a second?” Scott’s bewildered face made Stiles laugh. “I just want to freak Allison out, just for a second.”

 “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

 “It’s fucking brilliant.” Scott stared at him, his eyebrows scrunched together. “Fine, then you’re doing a peace sign.” One selfie with a peace sign from a smirking Scott next to an over exaggerated duck face from Stiles later, Stiles flopped on her bed.

 Trying not to laugh, Scott stood awkwardly to the side, quiet. In the silence of the room they could hear the clamor going on down stairs. The first floor was practically buzzing with the amount of audible conversation, the clanging of pots and pans, the thud of footsteps as people raced around the house, and doors opening and closing every ten seconds.

“God, they’re loud.” Stiles declared as he stared at the ceiling. Remembering Scott’s werewolf hearing, he turned his head to the side. “Sorry.”  Scott smiled warmly and shrugged.

 “I’m used to it.”  

“How long have you been a werewolf? Sorry, don’t answer that. That’s probably really personal like asking someone over the age of thirty how old they are or something.” Scott laughed quietly.

“About a year actually.”

“Huh, well if you don’t mind my intrusive questions, where are you from?”

“A little farther up north.  I moved down here this summer, planned on starting school in the fall. Fresh starts and all that.” Stiles nodded, for some reason, just knowing the fresh start wasn’t totally about escaping the new lycanthropy business.

 “Do you have any family?”

“Yeah, just my mom though. She stayed in Beacon Hills.”

“Does your mom know?”

“Yeah. I didn’t want to tell her. But she just kind of found out. I still don’t want her involved. It seems once you open Pandora’s box to the supernatural world—”

“—it kind of follows you around, can’t escape it.” Stiles finished.

“Yeah. I figured she’d be safer with me gone. I don’t have a pack so I was drawing a lot of activity with no way to fight it off. So I told her I was going away for the summer, just a trial period. But...”

“You weren’t planning on going back, huh?”

“No, not really. Especially when she told me that they haven’t had too much ‘supernatural’ activity since I left. Though the more I think about what too much is, it makes me want to go back. I don’t know. This whole supernatural business is a mess, and I kind of got the short end of the stick in the whole thing.”

“What do you mean?” Scott and Stiles both wore confused looks on their faces.

“Well, like you know about everything but you can still be yourself, and live a normal life you know?” Stiles was shaking his head at the ‘can still be yourself portion’ and the movements back and forth only became faster as Scott had continued.

 “I will never have a normal life. Especially now. And my family’s never let me be myself. You get all the superpowers. And have some self defense weapons at your fingertips, like literally.” Scott turned his hands over and stared at them, the claws elongating for a moment, then retracting.

 “That’s true, I guess. But I've never hurt anyone yet a whole family of hunters are actively hunting me down.”

 Stiles was quiet for a moment.

 “Well, not the _whole_ family." Scott smirked and Stiles paused before he continued. "I think most hunters have good intentions. But we all know about that path.”  Stiles said, smiling. His mind wandered and it was long before he began chuckling to himself, earning him a curious look from Scott.

 “What?”

 “Nothing. Just...this whole thing. My sister’s dating a werewolf. You, a werewolf, are hiding in her room. And I’m...I’m...” Stiles trailed off, because what _was_ he doing. He had so many lies and plots and plans and double-triple-quadruple crossings schemes. He had lies he told Allison, he had lies he told Kate, he had lies he told his parents. He had lies that were based upon truth and truth based upon lies. All of them different yet similar. Things were sprouting every which way and Stiles felt them tangle him up.

 Of course, he knew the end goal—save Derek—and the basic structure of how to get to that, trick Kate. But what was he willing to do to get there? And more importantly, how was he planning on doing this? What were the details?  

 Stiles didn’t know. Didn't really have a clue. And that in itself was terrifying.

 

* * *

 

Allison tapped on the door twice before entering to find Stiles and Scott lounging on her bed. They were tossing an old pink baseball back and forth. They sat with their legs stretched out on opposite ends of the bed, silently catching and throwing.  She stilled before closing the door then approached the bed.

 “Well, I see you two have gotten acquainted.” They nodded in synchrosy.

“I like him.” Stiles said enthusiastically as he mindlessly caught the frayed ball and returned it back to Scott.   Allison waited a beat, thinking Stiles would be the one to bring up the whole situation. She was sadly mistaken as the silence continued on, Stiles lost in his thoughts, focusing on formulating his plan. Stiles was enjoying it; the silence was nice, comfortable. Scott easily fell into it, obviously thinking about his own crisis that was most likely taking place in his mind. They chatted every once in awhile, nonsense theories, lycanthropy questions, the ones Stiles never really got around to asking Derek, and then the companionable quiet. The only sound being the faint clap as the ball hit the palms of their hands. Toss. Catch. Toss. Catch. Toss. Catch.

 

“Stiles...”

“Mm-hmm?”

“Care to explain what’s going on?” Stiles looked over at her as he caught the ball again. He held it up slightly with a questioning look on his face. She rolled her eyes. “Less about you playing catch with Scott, more about how he’s a werewolf, you knowing he’s a werewolf , and you knowing I’m dating a werewolf. And the fact that half of the entire Argent clan is living under our roof.”

 Stiles' eyebrows raised. He was hoping he could stall a little while longer so he could finish up his master plan. He’d been banking on the whole boyfriend-brother bonding time thing taking precedent.  No such luck. _Damn Allison and her priorities._

 “Ahh, where should I start? Um. I knew you were dating him for awhile—”

“How long’s a while?” Allison interrupted.

“The day you were being all secretive about Starbucks and I saw you holding hands as you fled the scene. Then your secrecy about phones and bowling and all that.” Allison nodded.

 “Okay. Continue.”

 “So I knew you were dating for a while. I didn't really understand why you weren’t telling me, but I figured there was a reason and you deserved to have some privacy. I came home today, saw all the stuff on the table, and you know how it goes Curiosity killed the Stiles...I peeked through and saw all these pictures of Scott. I thought they had found out you were dating and being all creeper stalker parents. Then I found the pictures of Scott shifted, half shifted, and the weirdo reflections of the eyes. So, I kind of understood all the secrecy.

 “I called you right after that because I realized they’d probably all left immediately to go hunt him down. All the cousins’ cars were parked around the neighborhood, Kate’s car was in the driveway, and all the SUVs were gone.”

 Scott was now sitting more upright and Allison had her arms crossed over her chest.

 “Stiles, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I just—” She stopped as she saw Stiles fervently shaking his head.

 “Don’t apologize. Because...well, if you're comparing what you did and what I did...yours is definitely less of a deal.” Allison’s jaw went slack and her eyes wide, her face for Stiles-what-did-you-do. “Just hear me out on this okay. I fucked up...well, kind of. I did some things, none of which  I regret. Well, minus the lying to you. I regret that. I regret that a whole freaking lot actually. Um, do remember like a month ago when I told you I was going to hunt down the Alpha? And you said that was a stupid idea? Yeah? Well, I lied and told you I wasn’t going to try...”

 “Stiles...”

 “Just, let me finish. Okay?” Stiles took a deep breath before he continued. “That weekend you guys went on the hunting trip, I went into the Preserve and set up a trap for Derek.” Stiles didn’t miss the way Allison’s eyebrow quirked at the first name. “I wasn’t trying to catch him that day; I was just practicing, doing a dry run for the real deal later on. And, well, it didn’t go as planned. Long story short, I almost died and Derek saved me. I mean he was a complete asshole about it, don’t get me wrong. He was a total and complete asshole. Which you know, led me to try again, that time I told you I was spending the night at Isaac’s? Yeah. So, Attempt numero dos didn’t pan out so well either. Then in my attempt to get home, I got lost. Derek walked me back to my car. And then...I went back later and we just...talked. And we did that a couple times. And now we’re friends. Good friends.” _And I may or may not be in love with his stupid, furry ass._

 Allison was dead silent. Her mouth pressed in a hard line. She shook her head and Stiles could practically feel the waves of anger radiating off of her. The thought made him look towards Scott, whose face was full of concern. Stiles could see him resist in reaching out to her. _Obviously his survival instincts kicking in there._

  
“Stiles. What—I just....He’s evil, Stiles. He is the literal definition of evil. I thought we already had this fucking conversation. _He burned his whole family alive._ ” Stiles bristled at that; he _knew_ what had actually happened. And the fact that people had been branding him as a monster, as something so malevolent and just downright horrifying, was disgusting and made Stiles feel pain as if  _he_ was on fire. 

 “NO. He _didn’t_.”Stiles angrily spat the words, glad for the uproaring clamour of the downstairs to drown him out.

“Let me guess. He sat you down and you had a heart to heart about how he didn't have anything to do with it?”

“Actually, no. He didn’t tell me. And he won’t tell me until he’s ready. What happened to him, to his family, was...” Stiles just shook his head. “Derek could never do that. How could he murder his own family, when he saved _me_? He had every reason to want to kill me. He could have left me there for dead. I wouldn’t blame him if he did. But he _didn’t_.”

“Didn't you ever think about that? He’s not your friend, Stiles. He’s manipulating you. To get to our family. We’re not exactly his biggest fans, Stiles. Why would he _save_ _you_? Even if you think you’ve built this relationship, what would make him save you initially? Has he explained that or...”

 Admittedly, Stiles hadn’t really thought about that. The thought of why Derek had saved him never even crossed his mind. He’d just taken it for granted. He’d been so focused on staying true to his own word (to killing Derek) that he’d never thought  about Derek’s motive. What _was_ in it for Derek to save him anyway? Stiles never even came close to investigating that question. And thankfully, he hadn’t.  

Stiles didn't know what made Derek untangle him and heal him that first day, but he knew one thing for certain: Derek was his friend. Forget about the sexual tension and the arguing and the snide comments and the horsing around. Whether they would ever be more than friends wasn’t important, because Stiles realized that he could only truly trust two people, and Derek was undoubtedly one of them. His position as one of the only trustworthy people in Stiles’ life was also just as strong and immovable as Allison’s place. Derek wasn’t a temporary fixture in his life. He’d become permanent. That was terrifying and exhilarating and it flooded Stiles with a sense of knowing and power.  He was drawn to Derek by some unseeable force, magnetized to Derek and everything he was.When they were together, Stiles could feel the electricity around them. They had this ebb and flow of chemistry and it made Stiles feel insane, mad, delusional, and so, so sure. He knew down to the very fiber of his being that what he had with Derek was real. Shockingly, insanely, ridiculously real.

 “Al,” He practically whispered her name, all the heat gone out of him. Allison, too, visibly deflated from her angered, puffed out stance. Stiles looked up at her his eyes boring into hers. He couldn’t put it into words. It was pointless to try. He just sighed and Allison furrowed her brow, her face still contorted in concern. “Al, I can’t describe it. I can’t try to explain it. I can’t. But if you only trust me once in your entire life, trust me this one time. Please, Allison...” Stiles shook his head as if each word was his last chance. “Al...”

 Her shoulders slumped and her arms fell from where they’d been fiercely pressed against her chest.

 “You’re sure.” She declared, and nodded, coming to a conclusion. Stiles, elatedly happy that his sister knew him so well, tipped his head forward in the most gentle nod. It was quiet then. The loud murmuring traveling upstairs from the late dinner being held in the dining room below. Allison suddenly jerked her head up, staring at Stiles like a deer in the headlights. Scott immediately had swung his legs over the bed and was by her side, his head tilted to look down at her.

 “What?” Both he and Stiles said at the same time.

“Hale—uh, Derek. He’s in one of the files. When I looked at them, he was in a bunch of the photos. He’s—”

 “Yeah. I know.” Stiles took in a breath. “Yeah. There’s some more I have to tell you. I told Derek about what I’d found, including Scott. Derek said he’d accept Scott as a member of his pack until this whole thing blew over. Strength in numbers and all. I told him I’d text him when everyone left tomorrow and he’d come by and pick up Scott—”

 “It sounds great. I think its the best plan I’ve heard yet.” Scott spoke up, nodding. Stiles felt a surge of affection for the brown eyed guy, and was thankful for his support.

 “Well, that’s the base line of the plan. It’s going to get a little more complicated. Al, there’s a conversation we need to have but it's goin’ to have to wait. We just don’t have the time to have it and yeah, I lied, you’re going to have to trust me one more time...” Allison smiled. “Okay, taking that as a ‘sure thing, Stiles’. So, what we’re going to do is this: when everyone ships out tomorrow--which is going to happen at one point or another--you guys are going to high tail it out of here. You’re going to meet Derek and he’s going to take Scott to their hideout. Allison, you’re going to come back and probably help me cover my ass.” Allison narrowed her eyes.

 “Stiles, what are you going to be doing?” She had a horrible feeling it was not going to be good news. She was right.  _As usual._

 “Dealing with Kate.” Allison’s eyes went wide.

“Oh god. Stiles, what are you—”

“Remember the ‘sure thing Stiles’? Trust the Stiles.” He let out a deep breath of air. “So, she knows about Derek. Me and Derek. That is. Though she’s confused it for something else entirely, thank _god_ or whoever the hell is up there. She thinks it’s all part of some plan to kill Derek and oh, Al, do we have things to talk about.”

 “What do you mean she knows about Derek? What does she know?” Stiles just shook his head.

 “Al, me explaining this...it’s so complicated and twisted and I barely know what’s actually going on anymore. But just know, that from here on out, things are going to get pretty ugly.”

Allison nodded diligently. “Okay...Okay.” She looked up from where her hands were clasped in Scott’s. “Stiles, there’s no turning back. The chances of Derek and Scott getting out of this safe and keeping the fact that you and I were in on it a secret are practically impossible. If we get found out, Stiles, you get what that means right?” Allison paused, unintentionally squeezing Scott’s hand tighter. “We’re going to have to run, Stiles. If they find out we’re involved, they’ll make us kill them. I can’t, I can’t do that Stiles. And obviously, neither can you. This could go wrong a thousand different ways, and they aren’t just going to accept us back into the Argent circle of trust...”

 “Yeah, no, I know.”

 

 

 

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH SHNAP IT'S 630pm fuck i forgot what day it was....again but hey. still wednesday. 
> 
> warning that there is a cliffhanger, and next posting will be sunday so if you wanna wait til then totally fine but c'mon. isn't a little agony worth it? oh look at me making tw references all over the place. hope you all like it and tell me what you think!
> 
> ~xoxoSasha

Stiles snuck down to the kitchen and grabbed a couple plates of food—well more like cartons. He hurriedly carried them upstairs, lucky enough not to run into anyone. Slipping into Allison's room elated that at least one thing was made a little less complicated, he handed out the Chinese takeout boxes and a few forks. Stiles couldn't help but roll his eyes at Allison's disappointed scowl as she picked up the fork.

“Do you want me to go back down and get you some chop sticks?” Stiles spoke just a little above a whisper. She shook her head no.

 “It isn’t worth you getting caught.” She shrugged and stabbed a piece of kung pao beef. Stiles gave Scott his carton then sat down. He opened his to find the potstickers, and smiled happily to himself.

 “Well, I guess this explains all the commotion going on downstairs.” Stiles said, making Allison laughed.

 “Yeah. Seriously don’t get between an Argent and their sweet and sour chicken.” They both chuckled, the memories of multiple late night scarfing out of white cartons played through their minds.  Scott looked on with affection, an infectious smile spreading over his face. “Hey, Al. When I’m done eating, I have to go and get my phone from my Jeep.” She nodded but her brow was furrowed. She placed a fist in front of her mouth as she swallowed her last bite of food.

“I thought you were going to notify Hale, um Derek, with his phone.”

 “I am, but I don’t feel comfortable leaving it unattended. Not to mention, our parents might clue us in some where along the way of what they think is happening. I don’t need them to have an excuse to barge into either my or your room.” Stiles popped another pot sticker into his mouth and licked the light sheen of grease from his fingertips. “I figure, when we’re done here, we should start packing. Al?”

 “Yeah, okay. How much are we packing? I’m thinking as much as a backpack can fit. Portability, you know?”

 “Sounds like a plan.” Stiles paused. “Who knows, maybe we won’t have to use ‘em?” Stiles smiled at Allison, who just nodded solemnly.

 “Yeah, maybe.” But Allison knew better.

 

* * *

Allison began dumping out the remnants of her backpack as Scott sat cross-legged on her bed. She brushed the crumbs and broken pencil tips into her small garbage can as neatly as possible. She eventually turned the whole thing inside out and beat it against her knee to knock out the last debris.

 She quickly shoved one bra and handfuls of socks and underwear  at the bottom of the bag.  She then layered in a pair of jeans and some shorts. She threw in ten or so of her favorite shirts and pushed the mound of clothes down. She grabbed some daggers that she’d been  practicing with earlier and set them on top. She walked around the room and grabbed her most cherished pictures, the few that were in frames, she popped out from underneath the glass. A majority of them were pinned to her corkboard and clipped to various surfaces.

 She noticed that seven out of eight were of her and Stiles. Some were old and worn at the edges and they captured the younger them smiling wildly at the camera. Others were selfies Allison had taken while they were hiking or when they were just pulling all-nighters for the sake of doing it. She placed them under the lid of her laptop and slipped it into the back of her bag. She threw a spare toothbrush and a comb in the small front pocket and called it a day.

 If she was supposed to go through each and every item and decide which were worthy and which weren’t... well, she’d be here for a lot longer than the time allotted. She had to be efficient about it, keep herself emotionally removed from it all as much as possible. But her fear and sorrowfulness still creeped in and had her feeling drained.

 

“You’re sad.” Scott said it matter of factly, gauging her emotions as they rolled off of her. “But..relieved too. Happy almost.” He stared at Allison, his eyes glowing with something like awe. “You’re really brave, you know that right? Most people couldn’t do this and be so accepting. Most people wouldn’t do it in the first place.” Allison wore a shy smile and walked over to where Scott was sitting. She crawled onto the bed and into his lap. His arms wrapped around her and he kissed the top of her head.

 

Allison let her eyes droop as Scott ran his fingers through the hair on the crown of her head. They only had a few hours until dawn and part of her wanted to just stay up. But Scott’s warm fingertips brushed against her forehead with every stroke and she felt herself grow heavier and heavier as she sunk into Scott’s embrace. Scott listened as her heart rate slowed and her breaths grew deeper. It wasn’t long until every muscle relaxed and her head lolled to the side. Scott scooted down and pulled her closer. She squirmed then resettled into a deep sleep.

 

Stiles’ packing experience was greatly less positive. After getting his clothes haphazardly in his backpack, he looked around his room and realized that there wasn’t anything that he _really_ wanted to take. There were things he’d miss, but he realized that they were all replaceable. He quickly backed up all the pictures music and contacts from his phone onto his laptop. He knew that eventually he was going to have to ditch his phone but he’d uninstalled the Lo-Jax on his laptop months ago, so his parents couldn’t track that. And even if he _did_  have to replace his laptop down the road at least all his information would be in one place.

 

So there he sat. On his bed. With a backpack filled with his laptop and clothes. And even though he had a variety of clothes that would last for some time, some items, he probably would never wear—cough, cough a bloodied and torn up red sweatshirt—yet they stayed in the bag, taking up space. Stiles only packed one extra pair of jeans, one unwearable sweatshirt, and an overflowing armful of t-shirts. While he didn't bother with packing socks or more than three pairs of boxers, he did unpack and repack the backpack three times to make sure a certain black shirt was in there. Because he _totally_ had his priorities straight. _About as straight as I apparently am._

 Stiles flopped down on his bed, the backpack sitting in between his legs. He stared at the ceiling with Derek’s phone laying on his chest. He’d picked it up and set it back down multiple times before finally, maintaining a firms grasp on it. He drummed his fingers on the locked screen for some time before sliding it unlocked. He pulled up the messages and fiddled with the new blank text. He selected Isaac as the recipient because while he knew any beta would relay the message, Stiles had an idea that Isaac would be the only one to not read it first. His fingers hovered over the touchscreen keyboard before typing out a message.

 

_**Derek, how about adding three new betas to your pack?** _

 

He deleted it and tried again.

 

_**Derek, I may or may not be getting kicked out of my house in the next couple days...** _

__

Stiles paused. Then what was he going to say? ‘So yeah, can I stay with you?’ No that wasn’t good.

 

He deleted it and his fingers danced across the keys.

 

_**Derek, I packed a backpack.** Oh cause that’s great Stiles. What the hell does that even mean?_

 

_**Derek, I packed a backpack because I’m probably going to be homeless by tomorrow afternoon.** _

 

_No. Just. No._

 

**_Derek, if I give you back your shirt, would you let me live with you for some undisclosed time?_ **

 

_I’ll be damned if I’m giving up that shirt._

 

_**Derek, not that I’m in love with you or anything, but can we move in together...With my sister. And her boyfriend.** _

 

_**Derek, what’s your view on communal living?** _

  


Stiles closed out the message and let his arm flop over the side of the bed, the phone still clutched in his hand. He sat up, crossing his legs and stared down at the phone, as if willing it to tell him what to do. He stared until the screen went dark before unlocking it and quickly typing out a message.

 

**Frm: Derek (Stiles)**

**To: Isaac**

_**Hey Isaac, could Derek borrow your phone? -Stiles** _

 

He hit send and instantly regretted it. _Great, Fantastic Stiles, make a wonderful impression by waking Isaac up at .... at 4 am. Perfect._

 

**Frm: Derek**

**To: Isaac**

_**If you’re up.** _

 

**Frm: Derek**

**To: Isaac**

_**And if he’s up.** _

 

Three text messages in under thirty seconds at four in the morning. _Is that a new record Stiles?_  He groaned at himself. The phone vibrated in his hand and he looked at it in fear and disbelief.

 

**Frm: Isaac**

**To: Derek (Stiles)**

_**He’s up. I’ll get him.** _

 

Stiles refrained from sending a ‘Thanks’ for a minute before eventually subcumbing.

 

A minute or two later, the screen illuminated again.

 

**Frm: Isaac (Derek)**

**To: Derek (Stiles)**

_**Stiles, it’s Derek. Is everything ok?** _

 

**Frm: Derek**

**To: Isaac**

_**Yeah, sorry. idk why i texted you. 4am thinking.** _

 

**Frm: Isaac**

**To: Derek**

**_it’s ok._ **

 

**Frm:Derek**

**To: Isaac**

**_i think i’m going to be homeless. by tomorrow evening earliest, next couple weeks latest._ **

 

**Frm: Isaac**

**To: Derek**

**_why?_ **

 

**Frm: Derek**

**To: Isaac**

**_well either tomorrow’s plan is going to go terribly wrong and they’re going to find out about us or by some miracle everything will go according to plan, but then  i’ll leave on my own because i seriously cant stand to be around here anymore i just . it’s complicated_ **

 

Stiles saw it send and almost instantly his phone vibrated, the screen flashing ** _Incoming Call: Isaac._**

 

 _Fuck_.

 

Stiles clicked the green accept and held the phone to his ear.

 

“Hey.”

“What happened?” Derek’s voice was gruff and urgent.

“Why does something have to have happened?” Stiles thought of his conversation with Kate. He wanted to tell Derek, to keep him informed of everything that’s happening. But how is he supposed to tell Derek that Kate knows but _don’t worry, she’s not actively skinning me alive or tracking you down. She’s actually sitting back and cheering me on because she thinks I’m manipulating you like she did. Oh, yeah that reminds me. I found out today that my own aunt brutally decimated your whole family for fun. And yeah, I’m totally going to play it up a bit because I can’t think of any other way to get out of this._ Stiles was going to tell Derek everything. And by everything he meant everything. But not only could he not emotionally do it now, he sure as hell didn’t want this to be said over a phone. He needed to be able to see Derek, have him in arms reach.

 

“Stiles...”

“It’s nothing.”

“Stiles.” The name was partially cut off by rumbling growl.

“Can we just drop it? For now? I don’t want to talk about it over the phone.”

Pause.

“I could come by.” The voice was suddenly soft spoken and it made Stiles stumble over his words a bit. It took him a second to remember that _that_ so wasn’t an option.

“Derek, you sneaking over here tomorrow is stupid enough. Let’s not take any unnecessary chances. I’m fine.” Stiles could practically hear Derek rolling his eyes. “Don’t you roll your eyes at me.”

Pause.

“How did you kno—”

“Please, I know Mr. Broody Sourwolf better than he knows himself.” Stiles heard a huff, recognizing Derek’s signature laugh. He smiled into the phone for a minute. His head dipped as if Derek was actually in the room as he fussed with the a loose thread on his bedspread. “I told my sister, today. She wasn’t happy at first, but she’s cool with it now. She said she trusts me, so that’s good enough for her.”

 “I heard something similar today.”  Stiles laughed a little louder than he wanted, but muffled it slightly in his shoulder.

 “I’m sure.”

They continued to talk; Stiles just mentioning whatever popped into his head and Derek responding and, or negating most of Stiles’ concerns. Stiles proudly counted the times he made Derek laugh and he’d lost count of how many times he found himself  silently, well almost silently,  busting up. Stiles closed his eyes at one point. Moments later he’s opened them and drowsily called,

“Derek?”

“I’m still here.”

“I think I fell asleep for a few seconds.”

“More like twenty minutes.”

“What? No way.”  Stiles pulled his ear from the phone for a second to check the time, which he realized was pointless because he couldn’t remember what time it was when he’d shut his eyes.

“Yeah.”

“You didn’t hang up.”

Pause.

“You might have woken up.” Derek’s line went silent for one second, then two. “Which you did.”  Stiles smiled as he duck his head, and if he wasn’t so tired he probably would have blushed.

“Yeah, I did.”  They talked for another twenty minutes, aimlessly bouncing around topics, sometimes there were silences as if being in each other’s company was just enough. Twenty more minutes turned to thirty before they finally hung up. They would have continued to talk, but Derek’s phone was already at half battery and Derek had never given Stiles the charger. Minor details...

Stiles was much more at ease after talking with Derek and was able to sleep for a couple hours. The sleep was needed but short. It wasn’t long before he  rolled over and squinted at the clock blinking 7:35 AM. Stiles couldn’t believe that he was actually waking up at seven in the morning during summer, let alone after going to bed close to six A.M.

 He lay quietly with his face pressed into the pillow as he listened for movement downstairs. The noise was minimal but unfortunately it wasn’t because everyone had already left. Stiles could hear the screech of chairs as they dragged across the tile and clamor of porcelain plates slide against the granite countertop. _Just getting up for breakfast then._

 Stiles cracked his neck and shoved himself out of bed. He shed his shirt and threw on a clean one, leaving on the jeans he slept in and wore the day before. He didn't bother with socks or shoes because it wasn’t like he was leaving anytime soon. He walked down the hall and knocked on Allison’s white door. He rapped his knuckles on the door three times and waited a good thirty seconds before opening the door. _Walking in on my sister with her werewolf boyfriend is something I would love to NEVER have to check off in a list of things I’ve done_.  

 “I’m banking on your werewolf hearing, Scott, to make sure I don’t see anything I do wanna see...” Stiles whispered as he opened the door and slipped in. _Well, at least they’re clothed._

 Allison was curled up into Scott’s lap and his arms were wrapped around her. Scott was awake and wide eyed. He had a guilty look on his face and looked down at Allison before his eyes returned to Stiles. Scott shrugged admittedly, and mouthed “Sorry.” Stiles laughed silently and shook his head.

 “So, we’re all still alive this far. That’s a pretty great start if you ask me.” Stiles whispered and earned a smile from Scott.  “Wake Al in an hour if she still hasn’t woken up. Our parents will notice if she’s not chipperly skipping around the kitchen by nine.” Scott nodded obediently. “Well, I’m going down to be seen. Last thing we need are any investigations up here.”

 

Stiles slipped back out and made his way to the stairs. And of course who's the first bright and shining face he sees ...

 

"Good morning Stiles!" _We'll that's the first time she's ever greeted me with anything nicer than mild disdain._

"Mornin' Kate."  She smiled wide, the grin as comforting as that from a crocodile. _Or a shark. Or a hyena. Or a crazy blood thirsty bitch. Oh wait..._

 

Kate was stirring egg batter in a large skillet. She was making breakfast; it was just so normal. Stiles couldn't really wrap his head around it. He knew Aunt Kate before. She was snarky and eccentric and always made breakfast for everyone before big hunts. And even though she didn’t like Stiles all that much, she always made him a bigger serving with extra cheese. Then she and Stiles would clean up the kitchen together, most often in silence that made Stiles skin tight from tension. He had never cared for her that much and was always wary around her. That being said, even though she was always the first to shoot and the last to ask questions, he had never put her on the same level as Gerard.  She was just Aunt Kate, an enthusiastic hunter that looked out for her family. Stiles had always thought he just couldn’t get used to her because he was just so different from her, her being the sole definition of a great hunter. He’d always thought his suspicious opinion about her was misguided.

But here she was the sole reason Derek's whole family burned to death in a fire. She literally burned eleven people to death. It wasn't just eleven wolfsbane bullets, which while still horrible, would have been merciful when you compare the two. She trapped them in their home and set it ablaze. They died slowly in excruciating pain as their bodies tried to heal themselves. The flesh burning just long enough before it desperately knit itself back together, only to then again burn the already overly sensitized nerves. How long did it take for them to die?

 And while murdering _anyone_ is all kinds of wrong and horrible, not all them were werewolves. Sure maybe she could play the whole hunter card and say it was for the greater good, that ridding the world of some werewolves was a good thing. But the fact that she easily took the lives of humans just proved to Stiles that Kate was not misguided or merely strayed from the Code. She was heartless, deranged, and terrifying. She wasn't a hunter. She was a killer.

 A killer, who had just served him a special extra cheesy breakfast with a smile on her face. And he was supposed to still pretend that she was just Aunt Kate? Supposed to pretend that they shared this bond over mercilessly murdering and manipulating innocent people? _This is going to be harder than I thought._

 Stiles accepted the plate, and instead of joining some of the others at the table, he placed it on the breakfast bar. Faking his relationship with Kate was going to be hard enough without an audience. Kate scraped together the last of the eggs into a pile in the pan and grabbed a fork from the drawer. She ate standing up across from Stiles. Her hip was braced against the oven door handle as she leaned to the left.

 

"So, what's the plan of attack today?" Kate spoke after her first mouthful. Stiles was thankful he'd thought out his plan all the way through as he answered.

 "Well, nothing is the plan. I kind of left things open ended last night so he'll probably go to our meeting place this morning to see if I'm there, which I won't. And knowing Hale, well, distance does indeed make the heart grow fonder."

 "You've got him wrapped around your finger don't you?"

 "Like a piece of dental floss." Stiles stabbed a couple pieces of scrambled eggs. "What about you? What's the fam-bam got going on today?"

 "Tracking that omega. Haven't your parents told you?"

 "Yeah I'm kinda—out of the loop. Especially with the whole 'I quit hunting' thing."

 "Hmm. Well your mom found the thing. Her and Gerard have been tracking it for ages. They weren’t completely convinced it was a were. But they do now. They and a couple others were tracking it yesterday when it disappeared. So they're going back out to look for it."

 "I saw the file on Derek. They aren't going after him now are they?" Stiles pushed the eggs on his plate. "Because I was kind of wanting that to be my hunt." Good save for once.

 "Don't worry.  I convinced them the omega was more important last night. Besides Gerard's not all that keen on finding the Alpha anyway. Apparently your dad thought he saw Hale at the very beginning of summer but Gerard convinced him to focus on training you guys first. Gerard wants you and Allison to be a part of the kill. That's why you both haven't been clued in yet. Your dad doesn't want you guys involved, and while your mom's winning that argument, Gerard doesn’t want you guys to know anything about it until you’re both committed to the hunt. Though ironically you already are involved, and committed. More so than they are. But anyway, they're not hunting Hale, just keeping tabs on him so they have easy access when they want to bring you guys in."

 “Huh.” Stiles nodded.  

“Where’s your other half?”

“Al’s asleep. I’m letting her sleep in for once. We had a late night too, so...”

“Right, your movie night.” _Riiiight_.

“Yep.” Stiles popped the ‘p’ with emphasis as he shoved the last bit into his mouth. While still chewing, he picked up his plate and fork and rinsed them off in the sink. He let the water drip off the plate before putting it in the dishwasher. Kate normally watched Stiles with an uncomfortable intensity, as if she was just waiting for him to screw up. He waited to feel Kate’s eyes on him, but when he chanced a glance at her she was moving a fly-away hair from her face. _Huh..._ He returned his focus to the task at hand, which was not dropping and breaking the dish. He flipped the dishwasher door up with his foot and used his hip to push it closed.

 

“So, are Al and I allowed to join the Omega search, or—”

“I don’t see why not. Though, you should probably ask your mom...but regardless of what she says I don’t mind if you tag along.”

“Where are you guys starting the search?” Kate looked at him with a new familiarity.

“Well, they lost track of him near the North Side. Gerard thinks he went toward town. But from what we’ve noticed so far is that he pretty much keeps to the woods. We can’t pin him down for a den or any type of housing. He’s pretty elusive which means he’s either on to us tracking him or he’s been hunted before. Either way he’s overly cautious and doesn’t have a set routine or route. He comes and goes at all times, disappears for hours, and while it looks like he’s living in the woods, he’s not rogue. He seems pretty civilized all things considered.” Kate shrugged as she focused on the frying pan functioning as her plate, her eyes still not tracking Stiles’ every move. It put Stiles off.

 It confused him until he realized that Kate truly found a camaraderie between them now. She actually had grown to trust and like Stiles. She felt relaxed around him, relaxed enough to eat eggs out of the pan, to let him in on the plans that were purposefully hidden from him, and to actually invite him to join a hunt. They were conversing over breakfast like...well like family.

  _Is this what it’s going to take to get along with my family? To manipulate and ruthlessly kill another person? To be a crazy homicidal maniac?_ Stiles smiled outwardly, as a weight sunk in his stomach. _Guess I never really had a chance, did I?_ Stiles could feel the weight of his muscles as tension tighten all over.

 

He’d made the decision that he was running a long time ago; getting the hell out of dodge was not a new plan. At first it was that he was going to ditch this popsicle stand to go to college, move far away, get a scholarship and adios muchachos. But summer had changed all his plans, what was once ‘Just make it through senior year’ became ‘Just last these next several hours’.

 

Meeting Derek and having this wake up call morphed his plans drastically to say the least. He thought maybe he could wait it out, and get out of his family’s clutches once he graduated, just kind of roll with the punches as he survived his last year. He’d get a part time job, save up all his earnings, then ship himself off east coast or north or canada, he didn’t know where but somewhere out of easy driving distance. He had once fantasized about telling them he went to one college only to go another half way across the country. But there was always Allison to consider. Regardless though, he had a plan. It was simple, easy, and no one would get hurt.

 

But then life had to throw a wrench into Stiles’ plan, again, and now he’s planning  to run off into the sunset with Derek, or if that doesn’t work out just go anywhere and take a year off or find a new high school before college starts.

 

He had run away before and he had more plans for a long time but it was now that he knew that it wasn’t just a dream, or a thought. He wasn’t like his family, and he never would be. There was no chance they’d ever get along. All those years, he’d spent trying, and he’d been trying for nothing. He was running and he had no desire to turn back. He didn’t care what happened now—well, in regards to himself anyway.

 As soon as Scott and Derek were safe, he’d run. Of course, he’d invite Allison to join him, but she wouldn’t be an anchor to him anymore. Whether she was joining him or not, Stiles was going. _She packed a bag because she might have to leave, but will she leave if it’s her own choice?_ Stiles couldn’t answer that.

 No, he couldn’t. But he knew for himself. He’d play this thing out, wait until everyone else was settled, then leave as soon as physically possible. While this was anything but a new revelation, it suddenly held a permanence as the hours dwindled away and his thoughts and wishes were suddenly forming into reality.

 

* * *

 

Man, how the hours dragged on. Stiles felt as if it had been weeks since his breakfast with Kate and yet two measly hours had passed. It was pushing 10:30 in the morning and Stiles had thought for sure  that his family would have cleared out by then. But of course not.

Stiles could have sworn they looked like they were stalling. How many times did they check that they had all the supplies? How many times had they repacked the coolers? The cases of weapons? The SUVs? His one cousin had changed twice, for apparently no reason. Now, as he looked out his window, it seemed that people were standing around the SUVs. Just standing there. There was no urgency, no action being done. They fiddled with keys and decided who was going to ride with whom, and who was sitting shotgun.  It was like they were all unconsciously unwilling to leave the house; as if his entire family had this buzzing little notion in their hunter minds that maybe, just maybe, the target was closer than they thought. Well, what do you know, they were right.

 

Scott was currently sitting on the floor, Allison’s bed shielding him from the window. Why did Allison have to always have her blinds and windows open? Because that little pattern was extremely inconvenient now.  Allison was feigning reading a book on her bed as anxious nerves charged her body.

 

“This is a horrible idea.” She spoke quietly, her eyes not leaving the book. Scott nodded, not even wanting to chance his voice being audible. He focused his hearing on all the moving bodies and was tracking each and every movement. That alone was distracting and nerve racking. He did not want to add, trying to have a conversation with Allison. It was hard enough to focus around her as it was.  He caught himself staring at her with a smile on his face again and he had to physically shake his head and refocus on the sounds around him. He heard the floorboards creak as someone came up the stairs; he stiffened in his seated position. The footsteps approached and he knew in an instant that it wasn’t Stiles. He lay down and began to roll himself under the bed. It was a tight fit and definitely not the most original hiding spot, but it was what he had to work with. The footsteps became louder and louder but they soon stopped before ever reaching Allison’s door. There was a pause of silence before a knock on a wooden door. The knob was turned and the tumblers fell into place. A shift in weight and then a click as the door shut itself. Scott eased his way back out from under the bed.

 

“False alarm.” He whispered, and Allison, who was just inches away from him, could barely hear him.

 

“I think they went into Stiles’ room.” _Thank God._ Allison exhaled in a relieved sigh. This was a hell of a lot more stressful than she’d expected.

 

Stiles was still sitting at his desk, with the scheme book open in his lap. His gaze was locked on the commotion outside and he only heard Kate when she was turning the handle to his door. It was a good thing _he_ wasn’t the one harboring a fugitive. _Not in this life I guess._

 

“Hey Kiddo. Watcha doin? I thought you wanted to go on the hunt?” Stiles’ confused face must have been enough of an answer. “Oh c’mon now, you didn’t believe I just _said_ I was going to see if you could go. When Aunt Kate makes a promise, Aunt Kate keeps the promise. Go on, get geared up. They’ve been putzing around long enough, the last thing they need is another excuse to hang around. Besides, a majority of them are heading home now.”

 

“I thought they were staying...to look for the omega and you know, be here for longer than a day.”

“Oh no. I was working a hunt with your cousins before we came. I mentioned that I was on my way here for a quick visit and they thought they’d tag along. It was only after they got here that we decided to go out together for a group search for the Omega. We were all going to head out tonight to go to the next job in Washington, but well, I decided I’m going to stick around for a bit. So they’re heading up without me.”

 

“Oh. That makes sense.” _So I pretty much freaked out for no real reason. They aren’t here for a massive hunt on either of them. And now my sister has a werewolf holed up in her room. On the full moon. And I’m practically lurring my wanna-be boyfriend into the lion’s den. And I’ve somehow gotten Kate to stick around. Great._   _The Award for Greatest Overreaction Turned to Catastrophe goes to none other than Stiles Argent. Fuck me._ “So who am I going out with now?”

 

“There are three groups going out for the Omega: Your mom, dad, and Gerard are one group, your cousins Henry, John, and Lila are  group two, and group three includes your ‘uncles’ Andy and Joseph. I was assuming you go with them, as they’re the only group of two. But you can pick whatever.”

 

“Henry and Lila fight like cats and dogs so I’ll go with Andy and Joseph; we get along well. So, everyone else is staying around or are they heading to Washington now?”

“They’re heading north to try to get a jumpstart on a coven of vamps. I’ll be glad to sit that one out. We haven’t even gotten to Washington yet and I’m ready to Van-Gogh myself from all the Twilight jokes.”

“In that case, you probably shouldn’t have told me...” Stiles smiled, thankful that his years as an unhappy child had perfected his happy-go-lucky facade.

 Kate rolled her eyes, a smile on her face. “Well, they’ll probably make up for it when I join them in Montana later. Well, try to join them anyway. They’re going dark as soon as the sun sets tonight, and you know Andy. When he goes dark, man, does he go dark.” Dark being when they shut themselves off completely from anyone who wasn’t in their small group. They didn't do it often, only for really big hunts, where absolutely no mistakes could be made. It left Stiles a little suspicious that they’d be going dark for only a coven of vampires, unless it was something more than just the coven. Especially if they were heading to Montana after that, Montana was known for its population of the supernatural, all that unurbanized land. It was a breeding ground for all things that go bump in the night.

Kate gave Stiles a quick slug in the shoulder before leaving Stiles to panically get ready. He threw on some boots and a flannel shirt over his tshirt. Because when hiking, one should always layer. It totally had nothing to do with his preference of style. Ok, he’ll go with that.

 He realized that his normal “hiking” , who is he kidding, hunting backpack was now filled with runaway clothes. _Fan-fucking-tastic._ He rifled through his closet and found an old, school backpack. He threw the empty bag over his shoulder and jogged to Allison’s room. He didn’t bother knocking as he peeked his head in.

 

“Hey, can’t explain right now, but I’m hunting? With the family? Yeah. So yeah. I’ll have my phone. Once we leave I’ll text him,” _Let her know I mean Derek. She’s nodding, sweet._ “and then I’ll text you an ETA when he lets me know. Bring your Go Bag, just in case. When texting don’t give names of streets or anything, and you already know all of this. Okay, good luck.” Stiles closed the door quickly and hurried downstairs. _She looked like she knew what she was doing. She’s fine. It’s all fine._ He threw in some nylon cord, snacks, a map, and a sweatshirt that was hanging up on the back of chair. He grabbed a knife and threw that on top as he made his way out the door.

 

* * *

 

Derek had been pacing back and forth for the better part of three hours. He wasn’t all that nervous for actually meeting and grabbing Scott, but the waiting was getting to him. He’d been relaxed until about eight A.M. It was then that he realized that he might get the message any minute. It would be one thing if taking the omega into his pack was the end of it but he knew it was only just the beginning. Whether the whole thing went right or wrong, there was a lot more to deal with afterwards. Derek still wasn’t sure what to do with his pack. Moving felt dangerous, but staying in one place like sitting ducks didn’t feel safe either.

 

Derek just had to wait it out until this part was finished.

 

When this part was over, they could move on. They would just have to take this one day at a time. They’d decide who was pack permanently after they decided where they were moving to. They’d decide where they were moving to once they figured out who, when, and where, were hunting them. And they’d figure that out once he got to talk to Stiles, which would most likely happen after they get the omega out of his house.

 Which apparently needed to happen now. Derek looked down at the message one last time and sent out a quick text informing Stiles that he’d be there within twenty minutes, which would put the ‘ETA’, as Stiles had worded it, at 11:40. Derek shoved Isaac’s phone back into his pocket before he bounded up the steps. He barked a ‘stay here, be aware’ before slipping out the door.

 

* * *

 

Allison had checked the house three times before cloaking Scott in some of Stiles’ clothes and venturing out into the open war zone. She tried not focusing on the fact that one wrong move could kill Scott and repeated to herself that it was just another mission. It worked well for the most part. She pulled her hair up in a high ponytail to keep a majority of it out of her face. The task kept her hands busy, too bad it was only for a few seconds.

 

They were sitting on top of the hood of Stiles’ jeep, which was parked down the street. Scott had on Stiles’ purple sweatshirt with the hood pulled over his head. He looked a little out of place to Allison because it was hard to see anyone’s face but Stiles’ framed by the frayed purple material. While the faces were stark contrast, admittedly, from the back Scott could now be easily confused for Stiles. Which was the plan after all.

 

Allison was drumming her fingers on her knee repeatedly, no longer having something to keep her distracted, before her digits froze in mid air.

 

“Fuck.” She scooted off the hood and Scott began to follow her. “No, stay here. Pretend you’re doing something with Jeep. Don’t let anyone see your face. I forgot the bag. I’ll be right back. We still have like three minutes until Derek should get here so just chill okay?”

 

Allison tried to walk nonchalantly back to the house but her nerves were on fire. She got in the front and up the stairs, taking them two at a time. She grabbed the bag and took a second to look out the window and see the backside of Scott still leaning against the Jeep. She had the bag over her shoulder and was jogging back down the stairs and her heart stopped. Kate was loading a shotgun in the foyer. She flipped her head up, her blonde hair falling to one side and smiled at Allison.

 

“Hey, Al. What are you up to? I thought you were taking a personal day?” Kate asked, speaking a little louder than necessary.  _What is she doing here?_ , Allison wondered in a panic as she tried to come up with some sort of believable lie that didn't get them all shot.

“Oh, uh. I was. But I know Stiles has been feeling a little off recently, so I’m just grabbing a pack, and I’m going to ask him to go on a hike with me.” Allison looked over Kate’s shoulder, through the side window. There was a clear shot to the jeep. Kate raised her eyebrows and nodded.

 “Sounds like a great idea!” Kate stepped closer to Allison and barely breathed the words. “That isn’t Stiles. It’s the Omega. And the Alpha.” Allison’s head whipped back around to see only Scott. She then noticed a second shadow on the ground and followed it until it disappeared behind the side of a house. “Go grab your crossbow though, you never know what’s out in the woods.” Kate already had it in her hands as she outstretched it to Allison. Allison’s fingers wrapped around it mindlessly as Kate led her back up the stairs.

 Allison found herself in Stiles’ room with Kate. Kate’s hands no longer held a shot gun but a sleek sniper rifle. She adjusted the scope before leveling it. Her voice was still just barely audible as she advised Allison,

 “I have a shot. It’s best if I go for the Alpha with the rifle. You get the Omega. We’re shooting to maim, not kill.” Kate silently lowered so the barrel was under the open glass pane of the window.

 

“Are you sure that isn’t Stiles?” Allison’s voice wasn’t shaking by some miracle, but she was struggling to breathe.

“Positive. Stiles left with the others earlier, and besides the thing turned around. I saw its face.” Allison nodded, unsure of what else to do. Her thoughts were racing a million miles a minute. She didn’t know what to do. They hadn’t planned for this. “Remember, Al, Maim, not kill.” Allison hesitantly raised her bow, arrow loaded. The string unbelievably tight against her fingers. Its weight was heavy in her hands, the arrow’s tip aimed for Scott’s shoulder. Her mouth ran dry as the blood pounded loudly in her ears.

  
“On three. One...Two....Three.”


	10. Chapter 10

* * *

Scott was just about to turn around for a second time, his wolf persistently trying to find Allison as her heart pounded rapidly from less than a hundred feet away. His wolf was hard to ignore as the moon, still hidden by the afternoon sun, pulled him to search for his mate, his anchor.

Scott was just about to turn around when his back shoulder was pierced with pain. He howled in surprise, the whine erupting from his lungs as he fell forward, another explosion of pain erupted in the back of his leg. His warm blood spilled onto the pavement and he could taste it filling his mouth. He coughed a few times as his eardrums threatened to burst—or maybe they did and were now just healing—as four thundering shots rang in the air.

He heard a painful roar and saw whom he’d just recently learned to be Derek writhe on the ground. Scott’s claws dug into the pavement as he pulled himself up and staggered over to Derek. Even with blurry vision he could see the four bullet wounds in Derek’s arm and shoulder. The skin was already turning purple and black as it began to rot right in front of his eyes. Derek’s veins darkened underneath his skin, decaying as he oozed black and burned around the edges of the bullet wounds. Derek rolled onto his stomach and pushed himself up. He managed to shove Scott shouting a gurgled ‘Run!’

 

For reasons unknown, he didn’t follow Scott’s path across the street and behind those houses. He stumbled to the side house leaning against it as he saw a side gate not too far away. He was currently collapsed against the shingled wall of a large two story house. Its shadow concealing him momentarily, but he could hear _her_ heartbeat as she neared. He  pushed himself off of the wall, the pain in his arm and side erupting at the sudden displacement. He fell against the wooden gate and ripped it from its hinges before running as fast as his body would allow.  He could hear his heart pounding in his ears and could feel bile climbing up his throat. His vision was blurry and the amount of pain began to shut his muscles down. His legs continued to pump but his direction was uncoordinated. He found himself running full speed into brick walls and tripping over bushes. He’d fall to the ground just long enough to push himself back up and run another dozen or so misguided steps. He was only about two blocks away when he found himself crumpled to the ground, his head pressed against broken twigs and his body contorted and twisted.  He vomited black goo into the bushes, the leaves mocking him as his dizzy vision caused him to become more and more nauseated. Lights and sounds were turned up to the maximum and Derek felt his heart climb into his throat. He panickedly searched for his mate’s heartbeat but couldn’t find it. His wolf roared inside but he only managed to gasp out his name as his vision went dark.

* * *

Allison and Kate had split up to track down their targets. Allison’s muscles and lungs burned as she sprinted to catch up to Scott, who not only had a head start but also possessed inhuman speed and stamina. Allison was slightly ashamed that she was hoping the arrows in his shoulder and leg would slow him down a bit.

 

She’d gotten about a mile away from her house when she started screaming his name. Not that she really cared if anyone heard her now, she had just been in such a survival mode the thought hadn’t occurred to her. Her thoughts already had been so loud that adding another booming voice seemed like too much. But she forced the name to scream through the atmosphere. Again and again, she screamed. Her voice was cracking as her throat became raw, yet the name still leapt from her throat. At some point hot tears began to stream down her face, and harsh hiccups interrupted her calls. But she still called him. She heard her voice echo through the streets and was just about to give up hope when she heard a choked out ‘Allison’.

 

She stopped in her tracks, her heartrate soundly pounding too loudly in her ears. Hoping it would return to normal, she paused a moment before she shouted again. The name ‘Scott’ boomed through the street, the sound bouncing off of glass storefront windows and fading in the open air. She heard another choked out version of her name, and her legs propelled her towards it. The voice seemed so far away but Allison found it to be in a dilapidated warehouse. It wasn’t until Allison was approaching the abandoned building that she realized she was in the old industrial district of Basin Falls, which was definitely farther than a few miles from her house. Her legs quivered as she neared the door. It was only when her hand was clasped around the handle that she saw smears of blood on the ground. She followed them around to a back alley, where Scott was collapsed against the brick wall. His head limp as he leaned, propped up against the side of the building.

 

“Oh my god! Scott? Scott?” His eyes fluttered open, a smile spread across his face.

 

“Allison...”

 

“You’re going to be okay. Okay?” She fell to her knees in front of him. Her hands cradling his face for a moment, before returning to the arrow sticking out of his shoulder. He leaned forward and rested against her. In a hug like embrace, she reached her around around him and pulled out the first arrow. She tossed it to the ground; the metal clanged as it bounced against the concrete. Her fingers were slick with blood and the smell of copper flooded her nose. Scott pushed his leg out and Allison quickly pulled the second arrow out. Within minutes his wounds were healing now that the obstruction had been removed.

 

“I probably should have pulled those out a couple blocks ago, huh?” Scott smiled as the color returned to his cheeks. Allison laughed as a few tears streamed down her face. She took in a shuddering breath as she shook her head.

 

“I’m so sorry...I...I didn’t know what else to do.” She whispered the last part, ashamed. Scott pulled her into his arms and stroked her head.

 

“It’s okay. I’m okay. We’re fine.” And while it was true, Allison couldn't see nor believe the validity of the words. Because sure, they were okay, for now. But what about later? _What about Stiles?  How am I supposed to find him? How are we going to figure out how to deal with Dere--What about Derek?_

 

* * *

 

 

“Wakey Wakey.”The condescending good morning was told to deaf ears. Though unconsciousness was wavering just as Derek heard the deafening click of the switch before electric currents surged his body. He couldn’t control the shift as it was pulled out of him. That in and of itself was terrifying as his features were forced to change and he endured it without any type of control. The bones in his face painfully rearranged themselves back and forth as the current coursed through his limbs. His nerves stung and he could smell his skin burn where the metal plates were attached.  His heart stopped and restarted over and over.  Sweat covered his trembling skin as his muscles clenched and relaxed repeatedly. It was a good thing that Derek was bound to the metal rack because he was truly too fatigued to hold himself up. His head stooped low, his neck and shoulders limp as electricity stopped flowing through his body, his features finally settling back into their human form. 

 

He swallowed breath after breath as he weakly looked around. Kate stood in front of him smiling wide. She winked before placing her hands on her hips, a devilish smirk a permanent fixture on her face. 

 

“Well, good morning Derek! What a surprise to see you here!—Well, for you.” She turned around and seductively walked back over to the control panel. Her fingers trailed over the switches, her back to Derek. “I took the liberty of healing the wolfsbane wounds.” Derek kept his eyes trained to the ground, not bothering to check her word. “Well, no need to thank me...C’mon Derek, What? You aren’t going to talk to me? How rude. I mean seriously Derek, if I’m not going to kill you, you could at least talk to me. Please, I promise I won't kill you.”

 “Yeah, you’re just going to torture me until you get whatever information you want out of me.” Kate smiled wide, a joyous glint in her eye.

 “Oh, honey, I _wish_. No, while it’s a great idea, sadly, it just isn’t in the plan. Though the actual plan is sheer genius. Really, I’m a proud auntie. Don’t look so confused, Derek. Please. Oh c’mon, even _now_ you still don’t get what’s happening? Damn, Stiles wasn’t lying when he said he had you wrapped around his finger.”  Derek’s eyes flickered up to hers for a moment before he turned his head away from her. “My god you don’t believe me. Ha! Really, _really_ pathetic, Derek. You know it’s even more pathetic when you think about how this is the second time you fell for the whole _I’m-a-hunter-that-doesn’t-get-along-with-my-family-and-you’re-the-only-one-that-understands-me_ ploy. I mean really. I thought you would have learned from the first time.”

 “You’re lying.” Kate laughed, her chuckle echoing around the walls.

“You’re a worse werewolf than I thought. Why don’t you try that whole lie detector thing. See if I’m lying. Are you ready? It was all a plan. Stiles played you. He’s had it planned from the start. He told me _all_ about it. About your secret meetings in the woods and how he’s been navigating you away from the other hunters to ‘protect you’. He’s making sure no one gets to the kill before him. That’s why I didn’t shoot you through your heart this afternoon. Because I had the shot. No, I promised Stiles he’d get to kill you when the time came. I _will_ apologize to him for cutting the time short. I know he had a couple more weeks planned for this little charade. But how surprised was I to see the Omega practically on our front doorstep, and I turn around for two seconds and guess who’s standing not five feet from him.”

 Derek used all of his energy to shake his head.

 “No? What part of this are we not getting, Derek?"

 “It’s not true.”  Derek coughed out the words, his mouth dry except for the slight taste of blood. Kate rolled her eyes and looked up to ceiling in disbelief.

“WOW, you are really far gone. I got to give Stiles props for this one. Still don’t believe me? Why don’t we invite him down ourselves? I'm sure he'd just love to join the party.”

 

* * *

 

As they took a break for lunch, Stiles sat on the hood of Joseph’s pickup, parked next to one of the black SUVs. It was pushing 12:30 and Stiles was getting anxious. It should be over and done with by now and he hadn’t gotten any sort of notification that ‘Hey! We aren’t all dead!’  Andy tossed Stiles a can of diet coke and waved as he left to join Joseph in another hike. They all had already gone through multiple sections of the North Preserve, and obviously had found nothing. Joseph and Andy, though, were always a little antsy and could never stop peacefully for a break. So they were off to try one last trail before heading back and packing things up.

 Stiles pulled out Derek’s phone and called Allison. It went straight to voicemail. Twice.

 He called Isaac’s phone. Voicemail. Twice.

 Stiles was starting to fidget nervously as the panic set in. He was just about to try a third time when his pocket vibrated. He jumped nearly dropping Derek’s phone before he managed to pull out his own, which had ceased buzzing. The name illuminated on the screen was the absolute last one he wanted to see.

 

**_New Text Message Frm: Aunt Kate_ **

 

Stiles quickly swiped the screen and the message popped open.

 

_Got a surprise for you youll never guess what was roaming around our front yard. were at the undergrounds at the hale house_

 

Stiles swore underneath his breath as he threw his phone back into his pocket. He quickly scribbled a note about meeting Allison somewhere and stuck it to Joseph’s windshield. He pulled out his keys and scrambled to find the right key to the SUV. His hands were shaking too much to get the key into the ignition the first time but on try number four the engine roared to life.

 He backed out of the parking lot and hurried down the road. His fingers were gripped tightly to the steering wheel as he panickedly tried to come up with a plan. He knew where Derek would be, even if Kate hadn’t told him. Kate was all about dramatics. And what with her “How fitting is it that it’s ending just how it started?”, where else would this final showdown begin?

 Stiles drove home and switched out the SUV for his Jeep, his already shaky breaths growing ragged as droplets of blood littered the concrete sidewalk. He drove around the perimeter of the Preserve in an attempt to calm his nerves enough to follow this seat-of-his-pants plan through. The Jeep’s tires crunched on the partial dirt and gravel driveway leading to the Hale House. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel to his own beat, not bothering with the radio. Stiles repeatedly checked his expression in his rearview mirror as he continued down the road. Did it only look that terrified to him?

 He parked next to presumably Kate’s SUV as he calmly unbuckled his seatbelt.

 “This is it.” He sighed heavily as he hopped out of the Jeep. He cracked his neck and attempted to loosen his shoulders. He ended up slugging a couple of tree trunks on his little hike down the side of the hill trying to release some of the pent up anxiety. He jogged down the rest of small incline to the arched tunnel. His steps attained a determined pace as he strode down the hallway. His jaw was set and held high as he plastered a smirk on his face. The hallway seemed never ending but he finally reached the metal door at the end of it. He knocked three times before swinging the door open.  _Show time._

 His quick vote of confidence weened, and he struggled to maintain his haughty demeanor as he saw Derek strung up on the wall. His eyes were bloodshot, and he looked paler than what Stiles would deem healthy. Stiles raised his eyebrows and smiled.

 “Starting the party without me?” Derek raised his head, his face hurt and confused. The expression sucked all the air from Stiles’ lungs. Stiles quickly realized that Derek might actually think this is what Stiles had intended all along and _just fuck no. Okay, be more specific. Hopefully he’ll pick up on the lies._

 “Sorry, couldn’t help myself. But don’t worry, he’ll heal in a bit and you can start fresh.” Kate smiled as she walked over and grabbed a baseball bat off of the rusty metal table. She tossed it to Stiles, who caught it quite gracefully. “Or you could start now.”

 Stiles swung the bat around a few times before slowly approaching Derek.

 “Yeah, sorry about this. Really, I am.” Stiles tone was condescending and dripping with sarcasm, but he hoped it didn’t mask the truthfulness of the statement. “So how’ve you been? Has Kate told you all about the master plan or—”

 “I filled him in...well, somewhat.”

 “Would you mind catching me up to speed?”

 “Well, I think he’s only just now getting the fact that you’ve been playing him this whole time. Seriously, Stiles. Bravo. I mean really, you should have heard him earlier. ‘You’re lying. That’s not true.’ He was foaming at the mouth as I ‘tarnished’ your name. Or maybe that was the electrocution...” Kate smiled. “This whole time I’ve just been trying to get him to believe me about the master plan. I didn’t even get a chance to explain it, because he just couldn’t wrap his little savage mind around the fact that it was all fake.”

Stiles nodded, his eyes leaving Kate's and glancing towards Derek.

“When did you really start falling for it? I mean, I guess that’s a horrible question when you have these good looks.” Stiles gestured to himself, a smile spreading across his face. Derek’s gaze bore into him and it shook Stiles to his core, the smile wavering. Betrayal was prevalent in Derek’s expression, with wounded, hollow eyes, and his eyebrows that pulled in utter confusion, his mouth slack as if everything had been drained out of him. Stiles’ act faltered for a second, but he quickly reined it back in.  “Aww, Derek. You actually believed I cared about you?”  Stiles starred Derek down; Derek’s clenched jaw and cold eyes sent shivers down Stiles’ spine and Stiles couldn’t even imagine what Derek must be thinking. He knew he didn't want to. Stiles made sure their eyes were locked as he lied, “Well, you’re wrong. I don’t.”  Derek’s hard glower continued, but Stiles could see the ice melt from his gaze and hope erupted in Stiles chest. _Thank fuck, I think he was paying attention._ Stiles didn’t have the attention span to think about when he’d become an expert at reading Derek Hale, or whether or not he should be concerned about it.

 

“Hey, I’m the evil villain here, and I do believe I’m entitled to my monologue...” He glanced over at Kate, who was smirking as she stood not ten feet away. “Where to start? Where to start?” Stiles edged closer to Derek, the bat resting up on his shoulder. Stiles popped his right shoulder, his left hand grabbing onto the bat and swung hard. It smashed into Derek’s abdomen and Stiles could hear the cracking of the bottom ribs. The air rushed out of Derek's lungs and grunted, as the bruise already began to yellow and heal. Stiles used the bat as a walking stick as he sauntered away from Derek. “Well, I guess I could start from the top but who really wants to hear about all that teenage angst and self loathing? I know, _I for one_ could definitely skip on that. How about Day 1 of the Master Plan? Derek, I’m going to be honest, almost killing myself in the trap that day was not a part of the Master Plan. The Master Plan kind of...was created, well inspired from that day. See, I was going to try and kill you using various forms of traps and wolfsbane and a whole notebook full of ideas, but you know, Plan A went a little south. Okay, a lot south. But that one screw up taught me a lot about you. And that’s when things kind of spiraled into this Master Plan. Long story, short: I pretend to like you, you like me. I trick you into ‘saving me’ from my ‘horrible’ family and whahp-bam-boom you’re chained to a wall.

 “It was quite a doozy trying to keep this all under wraps. But believe my surprise when Kate comes up to me and tells me _she knows exactly what I’m up to_.” Stiles looked over to Kate. “Seriously, I was sweatin it when you first confronted me! But then you went and told me how you totally knew my whole Master Plan! You practically laid it out step by step for me! Man, was I even more surprised when you told me you knew all of it because it was practically the same thing you’d done! I guess we’ll make it a family tradition now, huh?” Stiles hoped he wasn't laying it on too thick, but was reassured when Kate laughed. Though the moment of joy evaporated as he noticed a high voltage cattle prod swinging in her hands as she approached closer and closer to Derek.

 

“Stiles, by the way. I called your mom, dad, and Gerard. I didn’t tell them specifics but I told them to meet me down here in about an hour. I know it’s cutting your personal time with Derek a little short, but...I think it’s time to ‘em. You’ll get the glory and praise I didn’t get the chance to have. I think it’ll bring that closeness you’ve been wanting with them. But if you have other ideas, I can always call them back...” Stiles’ mind was racing too fast. His heart continuing to pound in his chest as he frantically realized what he was going to do. He was only half-listening to Kate’s words, and only vaguely understood what they meant in relation to him. He shrugged mumbling “It’s fine. An hour’s plenty of time", keeping his gaze on Derek as he leaned against the propped up baseball bat.

 “So buddy o’pal, are we all nice and healed up? I think it’s time to start fresh.” Stiles lifted the bat and could suddenly feel all its weight in his hands. He swallowed once before shifting his stance. His torso twisted and his neck turned to face Derek. The bat was poised over his shoulder, his arms tense from his tight grip. “Hey, Kate. Where did you say his weak spot was?”

 He could hear her step closer, her boot crushing the small pebbles of dust on the concrete floor.

 “Hmm, I can’t seem to recall. Maybe we’ll just have to explore, test a few places…” Stiles didn’t have to see her face to know she was smiling, smirking as if there was no place else she’d rather be. Stiles discretely inched forward as he drew back his swing. His eyes were still locked on Derek’s as he swung, fast and hard.

 The bat connected with skin and bone and it almost seemed disconnected from the thundering crack that reverberated off of the walls. Derek’s eyes were wide, his mouth just slightly open; Stiles didn’t know what to make of his surprise and confusion. His mind was blank.

 The violent crack and the echoes resulting from it nearly drowned out the thump Kate’s body made as it fell to the ground. Stiles stood motionless as the seconds ticked by as he watched Kate lie still on the cold cement.

 Blood trickled down from her temple, running over the smooth skin of her cheek and jaw. Stiles dropped the bat and strode over to her. His hands steady as he pushed her hip up from the ground. With one hand holding her body slightly up on her side, the other dug into her pockets and grabbed the key ring. He laid her back down gently before striding back over to Derek’s side. Stiles fingers worked quickly as he sorted through the keys. His hands shaking as he unlocked Derek’s restraints. His mind had been silent, watching the whole ordeal like a silent horror show in slow motion, then suddenly it was back in the present and everything was happening at a hundred miles per hour. 

 “Oh my god, Derek. I’m so sorry. I’m so so sorry. Are you okay?  Don’t answer that. Of course you’re not; you’ve just been tortured for oh my god how long have you been down here? What time is it? Whatever it’s not important. I don’t mean that it’s not important I just mean that…I don’t know what I mean. Are you okay? Still don’t answer that. It’s just that you aren’t talking and normally you talk. Well to me.Kind of. And. I didn’t mean any of—you heard I was lying right? Because if you think I meant any of that. I mean I...I care. I care a lot and Derek—“  Stiles was caught off as Derek wrapped his arms tightly around Stiles. The pressure was almost painful but either way Stiles couldn’t care less.  Derek buried his face into the crook of Stiles’ neck, his nose rubbing affectionately against the skin as Stiles’ arms slid around Derek’s waist. Stiles turned his face into Derek’s jawline and absentmindedly pressed his lips against the hard line of bone. Derek’s skin was warm. The stubble felt almost soft against Stiles’ lips. Derek’s grip around Stiles tightened and his fingers clenched onto the fabric of Stiles’ shirt.

Eleven long seconds passed as Stiles held his breath. Stiles heartbeat thrummed in his veins as Stiles grew lightheaded from the whirlwind of events. But Derek continued to nose Stiles’ skin, his head dipping lower and lower until his lips finally brushed against the base of Stiles’ throat. Stiles took a sudden inhale of breath, his lungs greedy for the oxygen.  While they were already pressed flush against each other, Stiles pulled him closer his fingernails pressing into the healed skin on Derek’s lower back. Stiles now buried his face into the crook of Derek’s neck, forcing Derek to hold his head high. Derek still managed to kiss Stiles' hairline despite the extremely awkward and uncomfortable angle.

 

They stood wrapped around each other as the silent minutes passed. Stiles took as much time as he could to steady his nerves and breathing as he held Derek and Derek held him. As easily as they joined together, they pulled apart. Both of them effortlessly separating. Stiles felt the loss of the pressure but there was a still a warm magnetism that made him feel as if Derek’s arms were still supporting him, still protectively wrapped around him. Stiles felt the smile overtake his face before he could control it. Derek’s expression was relaxed and a blissful smile slowly crept over his lips. While they were no longer pressed against each other, they weren’t far away from one another either, no more than six inches apart. Stiles could feel his flushed face and was pretty sure he saw a similar expression on Derek.

 “Derek, I’m so sorry about,” Stiles flailed in the direction of the shackles and electric wires that now hung limp on the floor, “all that.”

“It’s okay. I don’t think it could have been avoided. One way or another.” Stiles nodded then looked over at Kate’s limp body on the ground.

“Is she...dead?” Derek looked over and snuck a look at Stiles. He could hear her fading pulse and smell of eminent death overtaking her.

“Not yet. But it won’t be long.” Derek spoke cautiously, not knowing the answer Stiles wanted. Stiles nodded. He wasn’t conflicted so much as surprised at his own actions. He knew who Kate was and what she had done, and if she had died at anyone else’s hands he wouldn’t have felt a moment’s grief. But it was a little different knowing the blood was on his hands. He didn’t regret it. Not at all, but it was a tad unnerving, ironic, that his first true kill was a human, his aunt. But she wasn’t a human, not really. She was a monster. A monster far more sinful and abominable than anything he’d been told about. Hunters kill monsters, and Stiles was raised as such.

 

Stiles wished he could have felt sadness, grief, and that he could see his Aunt Kate lying there. But he couldn’t. He saw the manipulative murderer that burned eleven people to death, then hunted the survivors down. He saw the monster that smiled as she relived the kills, and her contentment to see that the ‘tradition’ was being passed down, and her want to see Stiles praised for torture, manipulation, and evil.  Stiles wished he could feel something other than a calm contentedness, but how could he feel anything but, when he saw that the true monster had been stopped. How could he feel sad knowing he’d saved one of the most important people in his life? He sighed heavily, and he felt a tentative hand rest reassuringly in the small of his back.  

 

“Good.” 

* * *

 Allison and Scott had holed up inside an abandoned warehouse not too far from where Scott had collapsed. They had climbed the rickety stairs up to the third floor and sat themselves in the far west corner near the wall of broken and dingy windows. Allison sat pressed against Scott as she looked out the windows looking for anyone to have followed them. She had her knees pulled up into her chest and she sat motionless as her anger began to boil.

 Scott felt her emotions rising and he rubbed an encouraging hand up and down her arm.

 “Allison?”

“I’m fine. I’m just...” She shook her head. “What are we supposed to do?” She didn’t look at Scott but kept her vision fixed on the deserted street below. “What about Stiles? And Derek? Kate has Derek and Stiles doesn’t know. How am I supposed to let him know? How is he supposed to get Derek out? What if...what if Kate kills Derek? What am I supposed to tell Stiles?”

 “Derek’s going to be fine. Stiles said that Kate knew about Derek right? So maybe, Stiles has a backup plan.”

 “But what does Kate know? Or what does she think she knows? I just. I dumped my cell. I forgot the runaway bag. How’s Stiles supposed to have a backup plan if he has no idea what’s going on?” Allison groaned as she lay her head against Scott’s shoulder.

 “I don’t know. Do you want to go back? I could track his scent in the reserve, maybe? We could find him and tell him about Derek? Or we could go back and I could try to track Derek. And who knows maybe Kate never even found Derek. Did you see her find him?”

 “Well, no. But he got shot by four wolfsbane bullets. He wouldn’t have made it far before passing out, and Kate...she’s a good hunter. She has him. I just know it. She wouldn’t have let him get away.” Allison sighed and was quiet for a moment. “Going back isn’t a good idea. I want to. But, I don’t think anything good will come of it.  I don’t know what to do. I don’t like not knowing. I don’t want to go looking for Stiles or Derek or both of them and end up putting everyone in more danger than necessary. Not to mention I can’t even contact Stiles so whatever lies he’s drawing up to deal with this—if he’s even aware of what’s happening—are just going to get screwed to hell if I show up. I feel like no matter what I decide to do that I’m just going to ruin whatever is happening. But I also just hate sitting here and not doing anything. I just. What if he needs my help?”

 Scott held onto her tightly and  continued rubbing circles on her skin. He didn't have an answer for her, but he decided he could comfort her as much as possible regardless. She leaned into the touch, as she relaxed minutely.  

 “Let’s wait for now. If by sundown we haven’t heard from Stiles or Derek, we’ll go after them.” Allison nodded her head, assured. “Yeah, that’s what we’ll do.” She turned her cheek slightly to look up at Scott for his opinion.

 He smiled, reassuringly, “Sounds like a plan.”

 

* * *

 

Stiles drummed his fingers on the dashboard of the Jeep as it idled in the Blockbuster parking lot.

 

“Okay, so...Kate shot you and Allison shot Scott. Kate went after you meaning Allison most likely went after Scott...so they’re together. And hidden. Okay. Okay. _Oh_ -kay, so all we have to do is get back to your pack and...and...I have no idea. OK, we find Allison and Scott then go to the pack? Then get the hell out of dodge? Ok, no. We ditch the Jeep. We find Allison and Scott. We grab the pack. We head north. No fuck we can’t head north; my cousins are moving north. We head south. South is good. Southern California’s lovely this time of year. OR we could head East. East is lovelier. And farther.” Derek nodded.

“Or we could stay.” Derek’s words were heavy, weighted, as if the words and syllables themselves were anchoring them to this spot.  Stiles relaxed for the fraction of a second where he let them stake him to the ground, enjoying the possibility that they wouldn’t have to run. But then reality set in.

 

“Derek...how? In twenty-seven minutes, my parents and Gerard are going to find Kate’s body. Even if their first conclusions don’t jump to me being a traitor, they’re going to try Allison’s and my phones, which are both dead. Even if they still don’t piece together the whole ‘both-of-our-kids-fell-in-love-with-werewolves-and-jumped-ship’ thing, they’re going to come looking for us. The subway station is only going to be a safe haven for so long. And I’m not sure if you’ve realized but we still have to watch out for three psycho nut jobs who are not going to take the whole ‘I-killed-Aunt-Kate’ lightly. I just...Derek?”

 

Derek’s gaze was soft; the vulnerability was a rare look on Derek.

"No one knows you killed her, not yet. You could tell them it was me, spin the story...I could head out of town."

"What part of that sounds like even close to a good idea? Like fuck, Derek. C'mon." Stiles rolled his eyes at the fact that Derek looked like the annoyed party.

"You wouldn't have to run, Stiles. You could stay. Wait it out until you graduate, and go to college have a real life." Stiles didn't dignify the suggestion with a response, so Derek continued on, “Stiles, once we start running, we won’t stop. We’ll always be running.” Derek paused, “But we can do that. Just know that that’s probably what we’re signing up for.”

 “We can’t stay with my family here. It won’t—Derek, we’ll _never_ be safe. Not with them here. I don’t want to run but what other choice do we have?” _Fight_. The rebellious word rang through his mind refusing to be silenced. Stiles did his best to keep the thought to himself.  Derek nodded, and for a brief, terrifying moment Stiles thought he had voiced the thought aloud.

 “We don’t have much time then. We need to find your sister and the omega, regroup, then head out.” Stiles exhaled deeply then turned the ignition off. They undid their seatbelts and hopped out of the Jeep. Stiles swore the doors slammed louder than usual. 

 “Bye, Betty. Sorry, you deserve better, I know. Thanks for the numerous miles.” He ran hand across the hood, patted it twice, then walked around the front joining Derek. Derek had a smirk on his face, his eyebrows bunched together. “What?”

 “Nothing.” Stiles rolled his eyes in response.

“Whatever, Mr. Sourwolf.”

 

* * *

 

After abandoning the Jeep, Stiles and Derek took off through the streets, not bothering ducking into alleyways or being overly cautious. Speed was more important than anything at this point. Derek was attempting to track the weak scent. It was was more difficult than usual due to the fact neither Allison nor Scott were part of his pack and that they were nowhere near the pair. They edged as close as they felt comfortable to the Argent part of town trying to pick up the scent.

 

It took longer than fifteen minutes to finally pick up a lingering scent of the omega. Derek realized that maybe tracking the scent of blood would have been the most helpful about ten minutes into the where's waldo search. They found themselves in the industrial district and Stiles was out of breath from sprinting all across town. He bent over against the side of a warehouse. Derek inhaled deeply and the scent of fear and blood surged his senses; they stood next to splattered drips and pools of blood that were staining the concrete as they caught their breath. Derek placed a gentle hand on Stiles’ shoulder and extracted the exhaustion until Stiles' muscles ceased quivering and he could stand up straight.

 

Stiles huffed a laugh as he stood upright, “Thanks.”

Derek merely smirked in response. He turned his gaze to the right, his eyes narrowing.“I hear...two heartbeats. They’re coming from that direction. Not that far.”

“Allison probably holed them up in some warehouse. She’d pick a high ground, so one that has multiple levels. And a vantage point.”

“Like a twenty foot wall of windows?” Pointing to a large abandoned building lined with broken windows, Derek turned to smile at Stiles, who returned it warmly.

“Something like that, yeah.”  

 

Stiles knocked his shoulder gently against Derek’s and they continued to the dingy beacon. Stiles took up a jog and Derek matched his pace. Their time was up and they were both aware. The had only a few minutes before Stiles’ parents and Gerard stormed the underground cellar and would find Kate’s body. Then they wouldn’t have more than a spare minute before everyone would be searching for them. Derek sped up and hit the warehouse side door with his shoulder. It easily gave way, swinging open and clanging against the wall. Stiles stepped inside.

 

“Allison? Scott?” Stiles said as he looked around the first floor. Cardboard boxes littered the ground and walls. They were torn and decomposing as Derek and Stiles stood, watching listening.  Derek nodded.

 

“They’re on the third floor. Scott says they’re coming down.” Derek walked walked around the towers of boxes and forgotten wood slabs. Stiles eagerly followed and it wasn’t long before Allison and Scott were emerging from behind a stack of wooden palettes.  Allison looked to be fighting back tears, her left arm crossed over her chest, clinging onto her right like it was a life preserver.

 

“Allison?” Stiles hurriedly walked towards her. She met him halfway, though her gait was slow. She somberly wrapped her arms around Stiles’ torso and rested her head on his shoulder. Stiles immediately enveloped her in the embrace. He rested his head against hers and rubbed her back gently. “What—”

 “I’m so sorry Stiles. I just I didn’t know what to do.” She whispered.

“What are you apologizing for Al?”

“I left Derek. With Kate and I just. I should have thought of a plan or something but...all I could think about was Scott and next thing I know Kate’s putting four wolfsbane bullets into Derek and I’m shooting with a crossbow aimed at Scott and...I just I didn’t know what to do. And then we disappeared. We should have gone back for Derek or tried to tell you but I didn’t want them tracking my phone and I feel like I really screwed up.” Stiles rubbed her back soothingly.

 “Hey, Al. I wouldn’t have known what to do if the situation was reversed. You did what you thought was best and see? Everything worked out.  We’re all safe,” _For now_ , “and alive.” _Not Kate_. Stiles squeezed her once before letting her arms slip away. Her face was void of tears and she seemed to stand taller.

 “Derek, I know you probably heard all that but I’d like to say I’m sorry.”

Derek shook his head. “No need, but apology accepted.”  Scott then lightly punched Stiles in the shoulder in greeting, Stiles smiled in return.

 

“So, what’s next?” Scott said.

“We go and join up with Derek’s pack and then get the hell outta Dodge.”  

Allison’s nod showed her agreement.“We probably have until nine o’clock tonight to get out. They won’t get worried until then.” Stiles shook his head.

“Actually, they’re probably already looking for us. Fervently, if I may add.”

“What happened? How did you guys get away from Kate?”  _Just what I_ didn't  _want to talk about._

“Allison, it’s a long story. And it deserves a better setting than this.”

“Stiles, just give me the short version.”

“I just think—”

“Stiles.”

"Dammit Allison, can't it wait?"

" _Stiles."_

“Fine, cliff notes version, Kate’s dead and our parents and Gerard are going to find her body in about—well right about now. And when they try to call us and get dead lines they aren’t going to wait to start patrols. So we need to get the fuck out of here as soon as possible.” Allison’s eyes were wide, hurt. Her murderous gaze flickering over to Derek.

“She’s...dead? How? I don’t understand.” Stiles could feel the pressure smothering him, as the time continued to tick on and on. The heat of his anger was simmering down. 

“She was going to kill Derek—I just, I couldn’t think of another way out.” Allison’s mouth dropped open.

“ _You_ killed her? Stiles—”

“Allison....You don’t know the whole story. Not yet. I will tell you I promise just. We have to get out of here. Like ten minutes ago. Please, I’ll tell you, I’ll tell you everything. Just, we don’t have much time.”  Derek was a guarding presence behind Stiles; Stiles could feel the warmth radiating off on his back, and a comforting thumb resting in the curve of spine. Allison angrily nodded, her hand entwining with Scott’s as they moved to exit. Derek waited for Stiles to make the first step forward and then joined in step. Allison and Scott waited by the door, and prompted Derek to lead the way. They ducked into the alley and Scott shifted instantaneously. Allison eased onto his back and his arms hooked around the backs of her knees, her arms around his neck. Derek through a glance towards Stiles, who returned with a quick shake of his head. Having decided to run side by side, Derek held out his hand and interlocked his fingers with Stiles’ for a brief moment, giving them a hard squeeze before releasing and sprinting off down the alley.

 

It was a silent run to the subway station.

 

* * *

 

Stiles noticed the way Derek left out the part of being captured and tortured when he quickly informed his betas of what had happened. Stiles felt that it was a pretty major part of the story but he didn’t correct Derek. Derek knew how to run his pack. Stiles also noticed how Isaac seemed to hover around him. Isaac was constantly listening to Derek, but was also consistently repositioning himself so that he was a barrier between Stiles and Scott. It was subtle and looked relaxed, but Stiles caught the way Isaac’s eyes flashed gold whenever Scott moved closer to Stiles. Derek noticed too, but unlike Stiles, he also noticed Erica and Boyd’s protective behavior. They had spaced themselves out and were much further back, but each of them was on a side of Stiles and surveyed the movements of the two unknown ‘intruders’. Derek knew it was their full moon enhanced wolf instincts kicking in: Protect The Mate.

 

The bond had been weak the last time Stiles had met them, but now it was strong and physical. That paired with the full moon, which was soon to rise brought the wolves' protection instincts to the forefront of their minds.

 

Derek did his best to be short and brief as he informed his pack, though he wasn’t entirely sure he covered everything. The pack’s movements were a devious distraction.

 

“So, we’re moving? Okay, where?” Erica directed the question to Derek and Stiles, while her eyes locked on Scott. Scott answered, however.

 

“Actually, I had an idea about that. I came from up north. There aren’t any hunters up there, and I know the people. There’s a vet there, he’s a really good friend of mine. He, um, knows about werewolves and the supernatural. He’ll take us in until we can find a more permanent thing. Or we could set up a place there. Deaton, the vet, he’s got ties with the police department too. The Sheriff there, he’s watches out for people like us. It’s a small town, has its own Preserve too, right near the Redwood National Park. It’s called Beacon Hills. It’s just an idea.” Everyone was quiet waiting for an answer from Derek, who provided none. Stiles looked towards him and was surprised to see Derek already had his gaze centered on him. 

 

“Sounds like a pretty good plan to me...” Stiles said, communicating partially in silence with Derek. It was only then that Derek nodded. 

 

“I agree.” Derek looked back towards Scott. Erica threw a look to Boyd, who struggled not to throw his shoulders up in a  _fuck-if-I-know_  gesture. Allison nodded along with the rest of them but she did have a concerned look on her face.

“What?” Stiles asked, as Allison bit the inside of her lip.

“I’m just thinking, we’re probably going to need to leave tonight or else they’ll find us by morning but...” She trailed off and it took Stiles a moment to realize what she was worried about.

 

“The full moon.” Allison shook her head in agreement.

 

“It won’t be a problem.” Derek spoke clearly, determined, earning him looks ranging from curious to nervous from everyone.

 

“How can you be so sure?” Derek was surprised that Stiles wasn’t the twin asking the question.

 

“My betas have enough control not to go running off into the night on a killing spree, so the only danger would be that they hurt you or Stiles, but that’s also not a concern. The run to Beacon Hills will be a good expulsion of their energy.”

 

“Are you sure that running’s going to be enough? What’s to keep them from taking a swipe at Stiles or me?”

 

“Scott for one thing. Not that I think anything’s going to happen, but on the rare chance that it did, Scott would protect you. He’s in control, and he even if he wasn’t he could never hurt you. You’re his anchor.”  Allison seemed to be taken aback for a minute, while Scott was blushing furiously, obviously aware of that information but had been keen on keeping that to himself.

 

“What about Stiles? Can you protect him against three werewolves?” Allison continued, standing her ground.

“Al, c’mon—” Stiles interrupted.

“They would never hurt him. Not now.” Derek’s stern, sure voice demanded to be heard, to be listened to. Allison rolled her eyes; she could be just as stubborn as Stiles.

“Three werewolves, semi-newly turned werewolves at that, would never hurt Stiles? Just because you say so? Wow, never heard of such a thing. The only thing that would keep them from _gutting_ Stiles would be if he was your—” Allison’s words died on her tongue, as the sudden conclusion revealed itself. Her thoughts were confirmed when she saw Derek’s subtle nod. “....oh.”

 “ _Regardless_ , Stiles will be safe. I’ll make sure of it.” Allison nodded, the tension in her shoulders missing. Derek, too, seemed to relax.

 Stiles quirked an eyebrow but let the exchange go unchallenged. _As long as they aren’t arguing anymore, I don’t really care. I’ll ask Derek or Allison later._ “Well, now that we have _that_ all sorted out. We really should get going. So um. Yeah. How’s this going to work?”

 

“Isaac, Erica, Boyd, grab what you want. Take only as much as you can run with.” The three betas made no move to grab anything until Derek was finished talking. “You guys leave as soon as possible. Run to Coyote Lake. It’s about 50 miles from here. Bunker down, and we’ll meet you there.” Derek looked over at Stiles, “Stiles, I think you’ve done more than enough running today. We have a few more hours until sundown, I think you and I are should go just outside the Basin Falls area and hide out until its dark. Then we hike through the night to meet up with the others at Coyote Lake. Allison and Scott you can choose to go with Erica, Isaac, and Boyd, or with Stiles and me. I figure once we get to Coyote Lake we’ll be far enough away to get some cars and drive the rest of the way.”

 

Everyone nodded in agreement.

 

“So we’re doing this.” Stiles announced, adrenaline already pumping through his blood. His nerves felt like live wires, vibrating with dangerous amounts of electricity.

“We’re doing this.” Allison’s voice was calm, sure.

 


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I haven't uploaded in a while! I just started school again and I've been dealing with some personal crap and have just had a LOT on my plate. I missed the sunday posting then missed the wednesday posting and I think I may have repeated that! Whoops. So sorry! 
> 
> I hope you guys like this chapter, we start to see how the pack is getting along and all that business. Please tell me what you think and next chapter will be up Sunday!
> 
> Thanks so much! Love you guys! ~xoxoSasha

* * *

The next few days would seem like a stretch of tunnel with no light at the end. Derek had found an old diner on the edge of town, closed due to the recession a few years ago. It was proving to be a great little hideout for the four of them. The hours were long and arduous as they sat waiting with no sense of accomplishment. The betas had taken off and were well on their way to safety. Stiles on the other hand was just waiting for the other shoe to drop. Stiles’ fear flushed his body and he was constantly dancing on the edge of a panic attack. Derek made sure to relax him as much as possible and Stiles gladly accepted the peace and tranquility, only to hear the snap of a twig or rumble of an engine and being keyed up again. 

 

Allison and Scott had decided to stick together with Derek and Stiles. They, too, were camped out in the diner's kitchen, leaned up against the metal cabinets as they waited for the last of the sun to go down. Allison had been silent for the short trek over. And she continued to be silent. Allison always became silent when she felt things were out of her control. She always did her best to keep her emotions in check, to control them if nothing else. She’d face challenges from a clinical approach, distancing herself in order to maintain composure. It was how she was raised.  _Trained,_ Stiles thought angrily.

 

He wanted to comfort her, to talk to her, but he knew she wouldn’t be accepting of it right then. He knew Allison relied on her parent's strong upbringing of remaining removed from all situations. While Allison rarely got into trouble, when she did she took her reprimand silently and accepted all fault. Stiles had never been like that, much to his parent's chagrin. They tried to train him out of it but he always fought back. He used logic and a heavy wit to talk his way out of things, though he was convincing it never worked and normally dug him deeper into the whole. He'd always then look to Allison for comfort, and she'd readily would protect him, shield him from his parents.

 

But Allison couldn't comfort Stiles, as all her effort was pushed towards keeping herself together. But Stiles found comfort and protection from Derek’s strong presence, leaning up against him as they sat waiting. Derek had initially been patrolling the front, pacing behind the taped up windows, listening for anything coming towards them. Stiles had been shaking, his hand twitching nervously. Derek had noticed and abandoned his post, his arms then slipping around Stiles and burying his nose into Stiles’ neck. Stiles calmed down immediately, feeling oddly at peace with their newfound relationship. Normally, he’d be questioning, worrying, and analyzing every single thing. But he knew he was safe, and that he trusted Derek with his life. That knowledge suddenly made everything else just slot into place. So he didn’t feel the need to ask ‘So, what are we doing, exactly?’ because he had an inkling that this wasn’t purely a survival instinct, that it wasn’t because of the full moon’s pull, but something much stronger.

 

Now, they sat next to one another, their sides pressed together. Stiles drummed his fingers on his pant leg, and Derek slipped his hand beneath Stiles’. Derek gently traced little spirals into Stiles’ palm, causing Stiles’ frantic drumming to slow until the rhythm stopped completely. Derek continued to trace with a feather’s touch.

 

“We should be able to leave pretty soon. It’s almost 9pm.” Allison said as she looked at the old analog clock hung on the back wall, the wallpaper peeling behind it. Stiles wondered if it was some kind of sign from the universe that clock still worked.  _Like everything can go to shit and basically end, but time will keep going..._

Stiles' random thought was interrupted as Derek shifted his weight, “It’s dark now, we could leave if we’re ready.” Derek’s words brushed against Stiles’ cheek. Stiles nodded.

 

Derek stood and offered a hand to Stiles, who took it and hopped up. Quickly brushing his pants off, Stiles accidentally knocked Derek’s hip with his own while stretching out. Derek returned the gentle knock, and earned a surprised smile from Stiles. Stiles was too busy trying read Derek's mind through to notice the sly smirk from Allison as she stretched. 

 

It took a few more minutes and a lot of sideway glances before they finally snuck out the back door.. A few more minutes to get out the door sure. But leave? Not quite.

 

Stiles bickered with Derek for ten minutes before Derek good naturedly manhandled him onto his back. Stiles declared that this was not “fucking Twilight” and that he was not a damsel in distress and refused to be carried like one. But Scott using the example that he was carrying Allison in the same manner was not convincing Stiles in the least. While Derek continually left intimate touches, he remained cool, almost cold like, refraining from teasing Stiles. Stiles noticed and it only motivated his antagonization. It wasn’t long before he was being flipped around and slung across Derek’s back, his arms wrapping around his neck and his legs around his waist.

 

Once Stiles was securely situated, he hooked his chin over Derek’s shoulder, his lips dangerously close to Derek’s ear.

 

Stiles whispered at barely audible levels, “Are you okay?”  Derek’s head pulled back, surprised. It hadn’t been the question he’d been expecting. It was also a question he wasn’t completely sure of the answer.

 “Short answer, yes. But I’ll feel better once we’re out of here. Safe.” Stiles nodded into his neck. Derek shifted Stiles, and Stiles squeezed Derek’s shoulders with his arms as he settled into Derek’s hold again. Derek totally didn't relax as a result of the gesture. Definitely not.

The run over was an adventure to say the least. And Stiles was right _._ It was definitely not fucking Twilight _. Because that ride was bumpy as fuck._

Derek tried to make the ride as smooth as possible, but trying to run while navigating roots through the woods in silence was difficult enough let alone with a 147 pound backpack strapped to him. A 147 pound backpack who was constantly being jostled around and making quiet ‘unf’s and ‘ow’s  as Derek jumped over logs, sprinted across small trails and wove through trees. Derek winced at each one.

Once they reached the edge of the Fremont Peak State Park, Derek slowed to a jog, with Scott and Allison right behind him. It wasn’t until they were in the thick of the woods that Derek came to a stop. Stiles slipped down, his feet hitting the dirt with a heavy thud, then arching his back and heard numerous creaks and cracks. He and Allison continued to stretch their arms and legs for several minutes, while Scott and Derek seemed to stretch just for the sake of doing it. _Damn werewolf healing._ Stiles cursed internally.

 

“How far have we gone?” Stiles said mid yawn.

“A little over thirty miles. We have close to twenty more miles to go.” Derek paused, looking at Stiles, pleasantly distracted by the curve of his jaw and his amber eyes, illuminated in the full moon’s light. “I don’t mind carrying you the rest of the way, but you can also probably walk the rest of the way if you want. Stretch out your legs and back. ” Stiles nodded. He bent over to touch his toes, and after a moment he heard a chuckle followed by a growl. He stood back up to see Allison covering her mouth, attempting to hide a smile, Scott looking incredibly guilty, and a little terrified, and Derek glaring murderously in Scott’s direction.

 

“What’d I miss?”  

Derek broke his glare to look at Stiles, “Nothing.”

“Yeah, okay, sure.” Stiles drawled the last word, confused but happy that Allison had regained some emotion in her face. 

 

They started back on their route, hiking in silence. Scott and Allison laughed every once in a while, but no real conversation took place. Well, none that Stiles could hear anyway. As time continued on, the pairs spaced out. Derek and Stiles took the front, and Scott and Allison trailed behind them about fifteen or so yards. It was enough to give Stiles the illusion of privacy. What with werewolf hearing, they’d have to be a lot farther apart to have what normal people— _who are unaware of the supernatural—_ would deem as 'privacy'. The night hike reminded Stiles a lot of his and Derek’s hike from a few days ago.

 

They  walked side by side, easily navigating the dark woods. Stiles could just barely see in front of him and while he was not known for his agility in hiking in the dark, he rarely stumbled or veered off path.  He let the small tether that connected him with Derek guide him. The strong tug that kept him close to Derek was something he’d only recently honed in on. The more he thought about it and recognized it, the more he could feel it. It created this easy push and pull between them. He noticed how just as he was drawn to Derek, to follow his pace, Derek was drawn to him. He could feel the stretch of the bond as they separated to avoid a tree in their path, and feel the magnetism pull them back together as they rejoined. He easily sped up to keep with Derek’s pace just as Derek slowed to accompany Stiles. And the silence was another oddity. Stiles had always noticed how their silences were peaceful, and relaxed; there was no forced conversation or tension in the air. But now, as Stiles focused his energy and thoughts on the silence and the bond, he began to notice their silences to become louder. While no words were spoken, Stiles could hear their conversation easily. Their intertwined breathing and foot tread only seemed to intensify it. Stiles couldn’t really understand it, but it was like he knew what Derek was thinking. He couldn’t hear Derek’s thoughts, but it was like Derek’s thoughts bubbled into his own mind, as if the thoughts were his own. Yet these thoughts were distinctly ‘Derek’.  The tonation and brevity of them were so classic, stony alpha-sourwolf that Stiles could never mistake them for his own.

 He responded to these thoughts, thinking his replies. Stiles never expected a response, and was surprised as the conversation continued silently.

 The conversations weren’t profound. They weren’t discussing the meaning of life or anything requiring a vast collection of knowledge. It was simple things.

Stiles thought of how peaceful the night air was. How the soft hazy moonlight just barely filtered through the dense woods. As the thought popped into his mind, Derek’s head rose. Examining the small streaks of white moonlight against the dark bark of the trees. Stiles suddenly saw the beauty in the mist that illuminated the small streams of light. His thoughts wandering to their last hike and the way he and Derek had sat side by side eating lunch, missing the warmth and proximity they'd had then; his hand trailed against the bark of the wood as he brushed past, his fingers tracing over the grooves. His other hand was immediately enveloped in a warm grasp. Derek’s strong fingers intertwined with his as they continued to walk.  

 Stiles smiled in the dark, and felt a gentle squeeze, Derek’s thumb rubbing his knuckles.

 “Derek?” Stiles addressed, the dark night atmosphere causing him to speak just above a whisper. Derek turned his head towards Stiles and hummed a ‘mm-hmm’. “Do you...do you feel it?” Derek’s hand went slack before tightening its grip once more.

 “Feel what?” His words were cautious, testing. Stiles started to shrug, having decided to drop it, before suddenly changing his mind.

 “Like I don’t know how to explain it. But I can feel you, even when we aren’t touching. Like I know where you are and it’s like a tug...when you get too far away. Even when we’re close. Like a tether.” Derek was quiet, the only sounds being the soft crunching of their footfalls. They walked several yards before Derek answered,

 “Yeah, I feel it.”

Stiles focused on the pull and tried to follow it, but it didn't connect to anywhere in particular. The more he tried to find it the larger it seemed and soon all of his skin seemed to tingle with a warm energy that encompassed them both. 

“How long has that been there? Like I thought I noticed it a long time ago but...” Stiles trailed off. Derek didn’t supply him with a conclusion. “What is it?” Stiles said eventually.

“It’s a bond.” _A bond. A bond as in a pack bond? Huh that's weird, normally human pack members can't feel the bond very strongly. Not without practice and training. It can take months or even years for a human to feel a pack bond and be able to tap into it. I mean except human mates, but that's a completely different bon--_

“Oh.” Stiles audibly realized, taken so far aback he didn’t know what else to say.  He remained quiet as the past month replayed in his head. Suddenly, a lot of interactions were making a WHOLE lot more sense.  Derek’s panicked growl caught him off guard.

 “I was going to tell you, Stiles. I was. I was just...waiting.  You don’t have to accept it. You can reject it. So, don’t worry about it.” Stiles snapped his head to face Derek, and clutched onto Derek’s fingers, which were trying to slip away. _Is he crazy? Where has he been the past few weeks?_

“Derek.” Stiles stopped walking, and turned his whole body to Derek. Derek’s gaze was focused on the ground. Stiles’ free hand reached out and gripped the hem of Derek’s shirt, tugging on it gently.  Derek’s face slowly rose, his eyes instantaneously finding Stiles’. Stiles focused on the bond now. He could feel it pull them closer and he responded. He moved forward then, willed the bond to pull Derek. The cord connecting them tugged and he could feel the strain, and Derek released the tension as he slowly inched towards Stiles. Stiles fingers slipped from Derek’s as he wrapped his arms around Derek’s waist. He was pressed flushed against Derek. His head turned and rested on Derek’s shoulder. Derek’s response was slow, wary, but he buried his nose into the crook of Stiles’ neck, his lips brushing against the creased skin.  

 Stiles listened for Derek's heartbeat as their chests rose and fell together. He picked it up quickly. The rhythm making the chill of the night more bearable, the ache in his chest dull. The strength of the moon was tangible to Stiles. The energy in his body rose and fell with it's pull and Stiles could feel the wolf's presence inside Derek. It felt like home.

* * *

 

The snapping of twigs as Scott and Allison caught up had initiated their separation. Immediately, Stiles' hand went for Derek’s, his body greedy and needing to touch. Derek was shrugging out of his leather jacket as Stiles arm extended. Derek quickly pulled the sleeve over Stiles’ arm, then brought it around his back and waited for Stiles to pull his other arm through. Stiles did without question, but couldn’t help raising an eyebrow at Derek, who ignored him.

 “Do I get your class ring too?” Stiles smirked.

 Derek rolled his eyes, and resisted swatting Stiles on the back of the head.  “Not with that attitude.” He returned Stiles' smirk as his hand found Stiles’. They then continued with Scott and Allison in tow, their own fingers tightly clasped together.

 

The three-hour run over had been rocky but it’d been pretty quick. The slow hike through the dark was proving to be a much slower process.

It was nearly four o’clock in the morning and Stiles’ was losing his stamina. His limbs were heavy and hung as dead weight. Derek continued to try and steal his exhaustion, but the effect would only last five or ten minutes before Stiles head was snapping as he fell asleep mid step. Derek wrapped an arm around Stiles’ waist and took on most of the weight, but the lack of movement just encouraged Stiles’ body that 'yes it was totally time to sleep'.  A mile or so back, Allison had clambered onto Scott’s back and was now passed out. 

 

Derek pressed a chaste kiss to Stiles’ hairline, then whispered against his temple,

 

“Stiles, do you just want to stop here for the night?”

Drunk with a need for sleep, Stiles slurred, “How much farther?”

“About four miles.”

“Can you carry me the rest of the way?” Derek mumbled an ‘of course’ against Stiles’ skin, before gentling slinging Stiles onto his back.  Stiles was being lulled to sleep by Derek’s rhythmic breathing and gentle swaying as Derek navigated over logs and loose rocks. He mumbled against Derek’s shoulder, “Can you sing me a lullaby?”  He heard a huff, and while his eyes were closed he knew the smirk that was spreading across Derek’s face. _Success_.

 “Stiles....”

Stiles smiled sleepily, the last thing he heard before falling asleep being Derek's quiet "Maybe".

 

* * *

 

Derek smiled, ignoring the burn erupting from his calves as he finally allowed himself to feel their ache. Stiles’ slow exhales tingled the nerves on his jawline; it was a striking contrast against the chilled night air.

 

They were inside a condemned vacation cabin near the edge of Coyote Lake.  The small place was barren, having two cots, no mattresses, and broken windows. The cupboard doors were held up crookedly from their rusted hinges. Some doors ceased to exist, exposing the bare shelves and peeling wallpaper. It smelt of old wood and dirt with an undertone of moss. Erica and Boyd laid cuddled up on one of the wooden planked beds. Half of Erica’s blonde hair cascading down her shoulders and the other half messily bunched between her arm as a makeshift pillow. Boyd had a protecting arm draped around her, his nose buried into her hair. Isaac slept sitting up, leaning against the bed frame. His temple resting on Erica’s knee which protruded off the side of the bed. Scott was seated in a position similar to Isaac’s, with Allison laying on the ground perpendicular to him, her head resting on his thigh. Scott’s head had lolled to the side and rested gently on Isaac’s shoulder; Isaac leaned into the touch. The overwhelming feeling of pack resonated in the room.

 

Derek sat opposite from them. He was against the wall, with a sleeping Stiles in his lap. Stiles’ head rested on Derek’s upper chest, near his collarbone, humming quietly in his sleep. Derek’s arm wrapped around Stiles as he rubbed his thumbs in small circles beneath Stiles’ many layers.

 

And Derek was finally beginning to feel relaxed. The full moon was, for all intents and purposes, over, his betas were safe, Stiles was safe, and they were on their way to something better. Derek was going to have a true pack again, with a mate. They’d make a new home, a new life, somewhere where the ashes of his guilt weren’t constantly making him struggle to breathe. They’d have a fresh start, he and Stiles both.

 

While obviously fleeing from their home town with a herd of hunters on their tail wasn’t the best situation, Derek couldn't help but believe it was. Everything about the situation should spell out rocky foundations, cursed beginnings, and an x-marks-the-spot on doomed finales. But Stiles had accepted the bond, that in and of itself proved to Derek that it was anything but foreboding. But to have the bond flourish was one thing, but to do it and have Stiles be able to keep his sister as well? It was earth shatteringly wonderful!

How long had Derek fretted over the fact that Stiles might decline the bond in result of having to choose between them? How long had he worried that Stiles might choose being a mate over keeping a sister, then regret the decision for the rest of their lives? And then what? Trying to live in harmony just a few miles away from Stiles’ family? Living in constant fear that some retaliation would happen? That the Argent’s would still hunt him and his pack? And possibly see Stiles as just collateral damage? So then what? Force Stiles to fight against his family, to force him make that choice again, and again, and again? That’s what he’d been signing up for. And it was absolute last thing he ever wanted for Stiles.

 

But this was making it so Stiles could have a true life. He’d be safe, and loved, and cared for. He’d have his sister, as well as an additional three siblings, better than that, pack mates. Four, including Scott. And Scott! His amiable addition to the pack was already proving wise and beneficial. Without Scott’s safe haven to head to, where would they be? Scott added a new dynamic to the pack, and he wasn’t a broken teen who needed to be saved. He knew himself and he knew his wolf; his control was close to rivaling Derek’s. The moment they, Derek, Scott and their counterparts,  had reached the betas, the pack had just worked. Isaac had taken Scott underneath his wing as they all worked together to find a suitable den for the next few days. They’d hunted together. They’d ran together, working off the residual energy from the full moon.  The easy ebb and flow was astounding, and Derek was so, _so_ relieved.

 

Everything had worked out. And when did anything ever work out for Derek? And yes, the daunting words ‘Is it too good to be true?’ did echo throughout his mind. But yet, it wasn’t too good to be true. That couldn’t have been more evident. Had it worked out? Yes. Was it easy? Hell no. To get to this point, so much horrible had happened, and they still weren’t out of the woods yet— _uh, pun unintended_ , Derek thought to himself because Stiles was dead asleep and wouldn't have let the pun go. 

 

They still had to escape north, still had to find permanent residence, still had to make it a home, still had to change identities to keep them from being found, still had a whole world full of things to prepare for, to bunker down and keep out of sight. They still had to tell Allison about what had happened—to explain to her how her aunt had been killed. And Allison still had to deal with that. They still had to work Scott truly into the fold. The pack acceptance would last, but not without some effort. They still had to figure out what was going to happen after the summer months melted away and days of school supplies sales were upon them with the golden leaves that fell to the ground, ticking like sand in an hourglass until the days of winter. They had so much to plan for, so much to prepare. So, no, it was nowhere close to being too good to be true.

 

Derek drifted off to sleep to the thought that while this was no fairytale, it was their story.

 

* * *

 

“C’mon it could totally be worse.” Stiles wore a shit eating grin and didn’t even attempt to hide it. Derek glared at him as he fiddled with the exposed wires beneath the driver’s console. The engine sputtered twice before catching, then roaring to life. Well, Derek wouldn’t call it ‘roaring’ to life, more like just barely clinging on.

 

“Stiles, I’m hotwiring a minivan that crawled its way out from the 70s...” Stiles pressed his lips together to avoid the sarcastic retort that was sizzling on his tongue. He tried for a few minutes before the urge to say something, _anything_ , won.

 “It’s technically a 1983 Toyota Van.” After Derek shot him an accusatory stare, Stiles offered the registration papers he’d scrounged up from the glove compartment as as some type of defense. He waved them in the air a few times, the crinkling paper the only sound other than the clicking of the engine. “Don’t glare at me. You were the one who didn’t want to steal a recently used car. Remember? It was your idea to prowl around for abandoned cars. Three of them to be exact. Three working abandoned cars.”

 “Would you rather we stole three cars fresh off the dealership? Or would that still not be conspicuous enough for you?” Derek quickly jerked the ancient seatbelt around himself before buckling in. “Put your seatbelt on.”

 “And ugly as fuck isn’t conspicuous?” Stiles said as he clicked the buckle into place. Derek chuckled, shaking his head as he twisted his torso, looking out the back window as he reversed.

 “Which side are you even arguing anymore?”

Stiles’ eyes narrowed before he carelessly threw the registration papers into the empty back seat, “I’m not arguing anything.”

“You’re always arguing something.”  Stiles’ mouth dropped agate. Derek raised a smug eyebrow, as Stiles’ disbelief grew. He finally nodded his head a couple times.

“Okay, _fine_. Wanna know what I’m arguing? I’m arguing that this car is a piece of crap but it’s your fault so you can’t give me these withering glares that say it’s all my fault that you’re now an early 80s soccer mom. _That’s_ what I’m arguing.”  

 “I am not an early 80s soccer mom.” Stiles jerked his head back and looked around the interior of the van, his gaze coming back to Derek.

 “You’re just lucky the kids are in another car. C’mon, we should totally keep this thing. It’ll come in handy when you have to rush to school to drop off Isaac’s lunch. Cause let’s be real, he’d totally be the forgetful one.”

 “Isaac buys his lunch.”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“Shut up.” Stiles laughed then smiled smugly to himself. 

 

Back at the cabin the pack had decided to split up and jack some (abandoned) cars to then head north. It was decided that three inconspicuous cars driving in vaguely the same direction at different times of the day was a lot less suspicious than a caravan of three recently stolen cars. The idea of all traveling in one car had been shot down almost immediately. Derek wasn’t the only one who did not want to be subjected to an eight hour car ride with his betas, his mate, his mate’s sister, and her boyfriend, who was also a new pack member. Shockingly, eight hours of cramming five werewolves and two hunters into a car that seats six was not an appealing way to foster the newborn lovey-dovey pack relations.

 

Allison and Scott ventured out first, what with Scott’s previous connections to their new home base. Scott was going to meet with his friend Deaton, and get everything set up for the temporary residence. Derek and Stiles would come a few hours later, help get everything in order and begin thinking more permanent ideas for their new home. Erica, Boyd, and Isaac would arrive shortly after them. Derek had been a little hesitant at leaving his pack behind to follow, but Stiles had suggested that they leave at the same time, but have the betas take the longer route. Which is what led to Stiles and Derek to be trekking along Highway 101 and the betas on I-5.

 

The drive was long and gruelling, even for Stiles, who had always been one to love long car rides. They were a major part of his childhood: his head comfortably resting on the seatbelt, his gaze focused on the telephone poles and trees that whizzed by. His mind wandered to fairytale lands where he was the hero, the victor, the beloved. He’d imagine world after world, scenario after scenario, as they drove to their destination. But every time the car would slow, the engine hum would cease, clicks would rattle around the car as everyone unbuckled themselves, Stiles’ fairytale worlds would unravel. He much preferred the journey over the destination. Especially when a majority of the time, that destination was hunter training.

 

Stiles and Derek periodically switched from passenger to driver along the way. They stopped every hundred miles or less to stretch their legs, use the bathroom, or get food. They made sure to never go into a store together and tried their best to remain unseen otherwise. Wherever they went and whoever got out of the car, there were always two water bottles in the cupholders before they took off. Stiles thought it was just a Derek thing, that whenever Derek would grab some snacks he’d pick up something to drink as well. But even when it was Stiles’ turn to quickly run into the diner and grab a couple to-go orders, he’d shut the van door to see two chilled plastic bottles waiting for him, the Crystal Geyser wrapper melting from the condensation. It was something so simple, yet it warmed the cockles of Stiles’ heart each and every time.

 Of course, instead of murmuring I love you’s every time a new mini oasis appeared in the van, Stiles mercilessly gave Derek shit for it.

 “Really? What are you Houdini? Where do you keep getting this water from?” Derek rolled his eyes as he bit into the burger, the aluminum foil folded down half way. It certainly wasn’t the best thing he ever ate, but it also wasn’t the worst. The bun was soft, kind of doughy, yet dry at the same time, though not as dry as the beef patty. The somewhat melted cheese made up for it, well, that and the copious amounts of mustard and ketchup he’d slathered on. He swallowed the bite, his tongue darting out to lick away the excess mustard from his lip.

 “There’s this great thing called a Quickie Mart, you’ll find them at most gas stations.”

“Oh, Quickie Mart? Tell me more.” Stiles waggled his eyebrows suggestively but merely earned an eye roll for his efforts. “So, do these–what did you call them? Quickie Marts?–Do these Quickie Marts make much by selling only water? Or do you just like to torture me, and deny me soda?”  Derek snorted, a fist coming up to cover his mouth as he coughed a few times before finally getting the bite down.

 “Soda? You need caffeine like you need a hole in the head.”

“Ha-ha-ha. Laugh, funny man laugh. Say what you want, but you can’t eat a burger with water. I mean that’s just blasphemy! You need a carbonated beverage to counteract the grease of the burger. That’s just irrefutable science. Science, man.”

“Science?” Derek looked disbelievingly at Stiles, who just nodded.

“Science.”

“Then why didn't you order your ‘carbonated beverage’ when you bought the burgers?”

“Because you always buy water!” Derek stared at him, his brow furrowing.

“Then why? I mean...I will never understand.”  

Stiles shook his head at Derek.“Un-be-lieveable.”

 

* * *

 

As it neared hour eight of the long journey, Derek saw the turnoff for Beacon Hills. It was nearly six o’clock in the evening and it was still light out. Stiles had his legs crisscrossed underneath him, and Derek couldn’t even look at that position without feeling the cramping in his own legs. Stiles had intertwined their fingers several miles back, leaving Derek to drive left handed for the rest of the way. Derek didn’t really mind the stiffness of his left arm. The slight discomfort was no match to the warm sensation of Stiles' hand in his.

 It was another thirty minutes before they pulled through the downtown. The small shops and display windows were welcoming and the same hope tugged at Derek’s heart that this would become home.

 Derek chanced a glance at Stiles who was excitedly staring out the passenger window. He had a small smile on his lips as his eyes canvassed the passing street scenes. Scott had given them Deaton’s address to plug into the navigation of Isaac’s phone. Derek was starting to get nervous that they’d inputted it incorrectly as they passed the hustle and bustle part of the small town. They continued on the double laned highway for no more than five minutes before the white sign beckoned them to clinic. Derek pulled into the small parking area and parked beside the blue sedan that must be Scott and Allison’s.

 

Stiles squeezed Derek’s hand before releasing it and hopping out of the car. Scott appeared at the front door of the vet’s, a big smile on his face. Scott beamed, elated, as he pulled Stiles into a hug. Stiles laughed as he squeezed Scott back.

 “Someone’s a happy camper.”   Scott released Stiles, then widened his eyes, abashed.

“Oh, uh, sorry. I’m just happy to see you guys,” Scott smiled. “So, this is Beacon Hills. Deaton and Allison are inside. We’ve got a couple things to talk about. Places to stay, and stuff. We’ve got some options.”

 Stiles and Derek followed Scott in to the examination room. Allison stood next to, whom Stiles assumed must be Deaton. They both looked up from multiple files spread out on an aluminum table,  and smiled warmly at them.

 “Make it over okay?” Allison said.

“Yeah, you?”

“Great.”

 

Stiles didn’t like how disjointed the conversation felt, or how awkward it all was. This wasn’t the brevity they had before where they could say five words to one another and know without a doubt that everything was fine. He knew he couldn’t put off telling Allison the whole ordeal much longer, but he also knew that they hadn’t had the time. But either way here was the fracture that had resulted. _Allison’s guarding herself too much_ , Stiles thought. She was very particular to always have a smile on her face, and it hurt Stiles knowing that she was forcing herself into the facade in order to trust him. 'Just trust me' he’d said. And she was, blindly trusting him. She didn’t know anything that had happened. Nothing really. She’d been lied to, then given just enough information to get by, only to be kept in the dark further. She was already going along with Stiles’ plan in a blind faith, when he dropped the bomb that he killed Aunt Kate, and even then he still wouldn’t give her any details. And yet she continued to follow him, to trust him.

 

It set his nerves on fire. The thought itself made the back of his throat dry up, and his eyes moisten. He bit the inside of his lip, forcing to pull himself together. Derek slipped a hand up the back of Stiles’ shirt and placed his palm over the small of his back. He held it there for a few moments of comfort before removing it discretely.

 

“You must be Stiles, and Derek.” Deaton smiled at them, and Stiles got a very zen type quality from the man. “I’m sure Scott’s told you already, but I’m Dr. Deaton.” Deaton looked down at the numerous opened files before him and gestured for them to gather round. “So, there are multiple options to look at. There are apartment buildings near the downtown area, there are a few houses for sale, though they’re quite small for a pack as large as yours, but one of them would make do for the time being. Long term, there’s a big plot of land near the edge of the Beacon Hills Preserve. It was cleared decades ago, someone had bought it and planned on building a house. However, they found other land farther north. Bottomline is that it’s available to you all. On the supernatural side of things, this area, Beacon Hills, is free of any other pack’s territory, meaning once you guys stake your place, you shouldn’t have to fight over the territory. There are a few other packs in the surrounding areas, and they are all old packs. If wanted, I’m sure they would make alliances. Either way, they won’t bother you in the slightest.

 “Now for the more technical side of things. Summer is coming to a close. In about a month, school will be resuming. Scott, since his identity has remained undiscovered will merely readmit. Allison and Stiles on the other hand will need to take the precaution of using an alias, just for the documentation part. I’ve spoken with the Sheriff and have explained the circumstances. You will be slipped into the school registrar under false first and last names, but you won’t have to actually use them. It should work effortlessly in concealing you. Have the betas identities been compromised?”

 Derek began to shake his head no, but looked to Stiles to confirm.

 “They weren’t in any of the files. And Kate never mentioned knowing them. I believe they're safe.”

 Deaton nodded. “Very well. That makes things a little bit easier. Derek, even if you keep a low profile, you will still need a new identity, but your betas, I believe their names are Erica, Isaac, and...Boyd was it?, yes, well they should be safe to keep their current identities. Which sets us all up. Sheriff Stilinski will create a false paper trail about the seven new people that have joined the Beacon Hills community. He’s assured me that if looked into nothing should draw any red flags. He’ll make it seem as if you’ve all trickled in over a span of several months, some predating today. I truly don’t see there being any issue. Here are the numerous places you can look at and make decisions. I’ll leave you to it.” Deaton smiled a good bye, clapping Scott on the shoulder before exiting to the front lobby.

 

Stiles fingers pushed through the pictures of the various houses, cottages, and apartments. He did it in a daze, still coming to terms with the fact that this was his new life now. So much had happened in the span of a few days. It was unreal. Aimlessly flipping through the papers, Stiles suddenly brought his gaze up to meet Derek’s. Derek looked at him fondly, and waited for Stiles to speak.

 

“The plot of land Deaton was talking about...”

“Yes.”

“I think that should be our end goal. We should do whatever’s necessary to secure it as ours, and think about building. In the meantime, any of these places are fine. But I think land near the Preserve would be our best option.”

“You want to build a house.” Derek’s face was a mix of surprise and elation, which bolstered Stiles’ confidence.

“Yeah. I mean eventually, yeah! Let’s build a house! I mean if we’re going to do this...let’s do it right. Right? What do you think?”

“I think we’re going to build a house.” Derek nodded, only for his eyes to spark with emotion, the energy hitting Stiles with such an intensity that Stiles could feel it radiate down to his core. Stiles smiled as he predicted Derek’s correction. “A home.”

 

* * *

 

Stiles did his best to focus on the present, to focus on that they needed to figure out where to live now, in order to get to the long term goal of constructing their magnificent new home.

 

Stiles tried. He really did. But as much as looking at apartment after apartment was exciting, his mind provided images of large staircases and crown moldings. A fireplace in the living room with large windows showcasing the green forest that lay around them. A large dining room that could seat all seven of them comfortably, yet still be small enough to be intimate and foster the sense of family they’d created. The various rooms each holding their own life of personality. But the rooms and objects themselves held little meaning to Stiles.

 

What enraptured his mind the most were the living, breathing, details. The creaks in the wood he’d hear from the kitchen as someone padded around upstairs. The sound of the television blaring in the background as a commercial played too loudly as they sat on the couch deciding what to watch. The way the back door would slam practically every time Stiles tried to close it or what a bitch cleaning the hardwood floors would be after tracking in brown slush from winter’s heavy blanket of snow. The smell of burnt bacon and the screeching from the fire alarm would rattle around the kitchen as someone swore trying to fan away the black smoke. The feel of soft sheets as Stiles finally sunk into the mattress, and a warm hand rubbing circles into the span of his shoulders.

 

It was the details that made Stiles mind wander.

 

Derek picked out a loft near the downtown area of Beacon Hills. It was just close enough to the streets filled with shops so as to not be isolated; it was near the Preserve as well,  but more than a ten minute walk. The lofts themselves were part of a six level building, and had large walls of old pane glass windows. They had one to two bedrooms and took up three floors.  It had an industrial type feel to it, which Derek liked, but it could easily be warmed up if Stiles preferred. It would all work out. They’d work it all out.

 They planned on taking a drive over to the loft to check it out , but they were awaiting the arrival of the betas, _who showed up fifteen minutes late with starbucks. Okay, actually it’s more like thirty and there’s no caffeine involved ... but whatever._ Stiles rolled his eyes at himself as he sipped on the last half of his smoothie, which Scott had gotten him. Well, technically, Scott had originally gone out to get Allison one, and picked up Stiles and Derek some as well. _Either way,  Fuckin **love** Scott,_ Stiles thought to himself. Leave it to his sister to pick a boyfriend who was so likeable and knew--and fully understood--Stiles’ need for strawberry mango goodness. He was a keeper.

 

Erica practically kicked open the door of the sedan and shoved herself out of the driver’s seat. Her tight jeans were still holding strong but she’d lost the leather jacket and her hoop earrings along the way. Her black tank top clung to her body and her massive curls had been pulled into a loose ponytail. She stalked out of the car and kicked the door closed with her foot. It was only then that Stiles noticed she was bare foot.

 

She smiled all too sweetly at Stiles before her long fingers wrapped themselves around the styrofoam cup and brought the orange straw to her mouth. She hadn’t even finished a sip before plucking the cup out of Stiles’ hand.

 “Hey--” Stiles didn't bother with any other disheartened protest. She smiled around the straw as she patted him on the cheek before disappearing into the clinic.  Stiles stared after her, a horrified gasp escaping his mouth.

“It’s been a long day.” Boyd said solemnly as he and Isaac approached the rest of the gang.

“Fucking god awful.” Isaac reiterated, looking worn and desperate for a mattress and some quality pillows. He shook his head, the bags under his eyes evident as was the shiver that ran through him as he recalled the past several hours. Stiles remembered seeing a similar look from a trauma victim on the news. Stiles clamped a hand on his shoulder and gave him a few solid pats before shaking his head.

 “I’d ask for details, but I think that’s something you’d rather not relive.”

 Boyd’s eyes grew wide as he nodded, “Seriously.”  

 They’d slowly meandered back into Deaton’s office and gathered around the examination table littered with pictures and paper. Stiles left it up to Derek to relay the information about moving and lofts and school and identities. Because he’d be damned if he had to deal with cranky werewolves. Besides, he made his contribution. Stiles threw a forlorn glance at his smoothie clasped in Erica’s hands.

 Derek ran through everything. And Stiles wasn’t surprised in the least at how efficient he was. Derek stated what they planned on doing and their reasoning behind it. _And no tangents, man he’s got some skill._ Boyd and Isaac nodded along with Derek’s words, while Erica stretched out on the couch in Deaton’s office, giving a thumbs up every time Derek asked for her opinion.

 They gave Erica ten more minutes of couch time before heading back out to the car. Stiles smirked at the way both Boyd and Isaac raced to car, but was confused when Isaac angrily sighed as he was forced to ride shotgun. Boyd smiled from the backseat, and mumbled something under his breath.  Derek cracked a smile as he opened the van door.

 Stiles climbed into the driver’s side, flipping the visor up and waiting for Derek to hand him the keys. Pulling them out of his pocket, Derek held the key ring out for Stiles. It was as Stiles started the engine that Derek spoke,

“If Erica drives, she can’t hit them both, because at least one of her hands is on the wheel. However, that still leaves one arm free to move and apparently the back seat’s the safest.” Stiles laughed over the puttering of the van. He pulled out of the parking lot and was on the two lane blacktop as he shook his head.

 “Why’s she hitting them?” Derek shrugged and pointed for Stiles to take the next left, having them go through town again. “Aww, look Derek. Just think this is our new town! See there’s the little post office. And there’s the library, which is next to that little coffee shop drive thru! Gettin’ some caffeine to bolster our reading habits? See look there’s our little town market where we can get fresh homegrown veggies and fruits!”

“Stiles, that’s a Safeway.”

“Don’t ruin my dreams, Derek.”

Derek rolled his eyes as he continued to read directions off his phone. The route was simple and Stiles found himself memorizing it easily. Just like how everything else seemed to be going.

 According to Deaton and Scott, this particular building was owned by the Sheriff’s department, and was used for evidence storage. However out of the six levels, only the bottom two actually contained any storage. The top three were released to Deaton in light of supernatural events some time ago. Apparently, the Sheriff was keen to the whole werewolves and monsters are real business, and was more than willing to help Deaton out. Stiles was elated to know the law was on his side for once, though he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t curious as to how the Sheriff of this small town found out about things that go bump in the night, and more importantly why he’d taken their side in the matter. Stiles figured he’d meet this Sheriff eventually, and after enough time might be able to ask this questions.

 While Stiles had seen pictures, the apartment building wasn’t even close to what Stiles had been expecting. He was expecting an abandoned and isolated environment, but it was nothing of the sort. Sure it was off the beaten path, but it was within walking distance to small shops and other apartment buildings. And even though it reminded him of the old industrial district back in Basin Falls, he had a welcoming and homey vibe. The entire building was just sectioned paned windows, the numerous squares checkering the sides of the place. Stiles could totally imagine looking out the windows on a cold winter morning with a cup of coffee in his hand. The top floor beckoned to him and he noticed the pick up of his pace.

 

They opened the door and walked through the small lobby. Straight ahead there was an old iron elevator with a directory and lock. On the wall adjacent to it, there was a steel door with a keypad. Stiles figured this small lobby took up a bit of space from the first floor of evidence storage. They walked over towards elevator doors, Derek pulling out the set of barrel keys given to him by Deaton. He inserted the key and turned it, then pressed the call button of the elevator. It wasn’t long until the elevator doors opened and they walked inside. Derek again used the the keys to select the third floor option. Stiles noticed the directory only listed five levels, not six, as well as there were only five buttons.

The elevator groaned as it surged upward, though Stiles was almost comforted by the sound. It sounded strong and enduring, as if the low grind of the gears testified to the immense strength of it. The doors opened to a wide expanse of a floor. The entire wall was lined with the paned windows and there seemed to only be two separations of the unit. There was a small kitchenette, an empty area for a living room, and two doors on the right side, which Stiles concluded to be a bedroom and bathroom.

 

Derek pulled out the folded paper and skimmed the front before nodding.

 

“This is the one bedroom loft. There’s a full bath, and a small kitchen.” Derek looked towards Scott and Allison. Allison was the first to further step into the room. Her hand flexing, hanging down by her side. Scott followed her and smiled looking around, though his gaze never left Allison’s face for too long. Erica, still barefoot, began to walk around as well, Isaac and Boyd following her. Erica ventured to the wall of windows and gazed out, her human nails drumming softly against the glass.

 

“Derek, the next floor’s a two bedroom right?” Derek nodded. “And the one above that?”

“Also a two bedroom.”

 

Erica gazed back out the window. She sighed low and content. She turned around her hair whipping into place and marched up to Derek plucking the keys from his hand; Derek’s eyes narrowed at her but he made no move to retrieve them. Erica flipped through the barrel keys and singled out the one with a clear ‘3’ carved into it. She pulled it off the key ring, then strode over to where Allison was examining the kitchen. Erica took Allison’s hand and placed the key into her palm, smiling shyly as Allison eyed her warily.  Allison’s fingers wrapped around the key, feeling its weight and significance.  She looked down at it again, and watched it roll against her fingers.

She smiled at it, and raised her gaze to Erica. It was silent but friendly, and sincere.

 

It lasted a few more seconds until Isaac, oblivious to the pack bonding moment, called Erica to come with them to check out their place.  Leaving Scott and Allison to get familiar with their new home, Stiles, Derek and the others reentered the elevator and made their way to the fourth floor.

 Derek read over the description of the place as Erica, now in possession of the keys, turned the Fourth Floor’s key and waited for the doors to open.

 “This is a two bedroom, two bathroom. Hardwood floors like down stairs, and a small kitchen.”  The betas walked through unit, Erica making a break for the two bedrooms and Isaac in pursuit. Erica eventually called ‘Mine!’ and Isaac returned to the first room and staked his claim.

 “Boyd, you’re not going to pick out a room with Erica?” Stiles asked as he leaned against the wall next to the elevator. Boyd shrugged.

 “ I’d just get in the way, considering I don’t really care where we sleep. But it’s important to her so she should get to make the call, and she doesn’t need me slowing her down to race Isaac.” Stiles laughed before turning to Derek and not so subtly jerked his head towards the elevator doors.

 Having the only key left on the ring, Stiles and Derek unlocked the fifth floor. The elevator slowly ascended and opened to their own unit.  

 It was much alike the other nearly identical floors with a large open area and an even larger span of windows, however, the kitchen seemed larger, having a wide counter and island. It also had additional cupboards and a few wooden stools on one side of the island. Stiles walked over to the two doors on the other side, opening one to find a small bathroom with a shower, and the other a medium sized bedroom with an empty bed frame and an old wooden dresser. There was a sliding door closet as well, which held a rod and a few loose hangers but was otherwise empty.

 

Stiles walked back out to notice an iron spiral staircase situated in the left corner of the loft. _Maybe that leads to that missing sixth level._  Derek was looking out the windows, staring intently at the horizon. Stiles saved the staircase to investigate later and walked up beside Derek.

 

“Home sweet home, right?”

Derek smiled, it was small and private and Stiles was so happy to be able to share it with him.

“I’m really glad you tried to kill me that one time.”  

The laughter burst through Stiles lungs, tears springing to his eyes and he could hear Derek chuckling beside him.  “Yeah, me too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _UPDATE: NOVEMBER 23_
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Hey long time no see....yeah I know I'm an asshole and I haven't updated since August. I really do apologize. 
> 
> However, do not fret! I'm NOT abandoning this story. I plan to post 1-2 chapters between now and January. And once January rolls around, I plan to begin updating weekly again. Being that as its schedule, the projected 14 chapters may change. I've been looking at my outlines and I don't know if we're going to reach all the things we need to reach in 3 chapters. So take from that what you will. I love you guys so much and want to thank you for your patience. It truly means the world to me. 
> 
> ~xoxoSasha


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Pack settles in, and some interesting revelations are made...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ayyyyyy long time no see...
> 
> Yeah I know I've been MIA for months..err years...whoops I'm shitty
> 
> but hey, I'm here now and this story will be finished goddammit! 
> 
> If any of yall are interested in continuing this story with me I'd gladly appreciate it. I'm going to go back through and re-edit all the chapters that I haven't edited (which you know is all of them). So if you're going to reread it and catch up with me by all means wait a hot second. I started my revisions yesterday, and made it through chapter one, and will be continuing this week. 
> 
> Thanks for all of the support through the years, whether I've been here or not! But I'm back and ready to bang this shit out. Who's with me?
> 
> -xoxoSasha
> 
> P. S. *TRIGGER WARNING:panic attack in this chapter

* * *

One more night had been spent huddled on the ground. One more night that the windows opened and let the warm summer air fill the rooms. One more night that crickets chirped and lulled them all to sleep.  One more night that Stiles had fallen asleep with arms wrapped protectively around him.

As much as Stiles had to crack his back and various joints, he wouldn’t take back the past two nights. Stiles padded around in the kitchen, thinking of what the routine would be like. He quietly opened up cupboards and ran his hands over the countertop. The thoughts of the future both near and far were terrifying and exhilarating and Stiles’ mind ran rabid as he pictured their life unfolding out in front of him. Stiles felt the energy bubble to life once more and he looked to see Derek tentatively enter the kitchen. His energy was off though, and Stiles frowned at the grey cloud that hovered over Derek. He seemed to flit around Stiles, standing awkwardly far from Stiles and letting them stew in this silence that was anything but the conversational or companionable silence they’d enjoyed before. Stiles tried to tug on their tether, trying to get into that stony head of his, but to no avail.  Inching closer, Stiles’ fingers ghosted along Derek’s arm before wrapping around his wrist and pulling Derek towards him.

“You’re acting weird.” Stiles said, as Derek pulled him in an embrace. Derek rested his head against the side of Stiles’. His warm breath ghosted over Stiles’ skin, before he finally kissed the top of Stiles’ ear, the touch soft, gentle. Stiles felt the dark weight lift away from Derek and  a warmth began spreading over him. “Your aura was all weird too.”  Derek’s cheek tug upwards in a small smile.

“It’s been a hectic few days. I just don’t want you to..I don’t want to overwhelm you.” Stiles smiled as he angled his head to kiss Derek’s neck, then moved his way up. He nipped at Derek’s jaw; a subtle groan escaped Derek, taken off guard. Stiles kissed each corner of Derek’s mouth and the tip of his nose before moving to Derek’s bottom lip. He mumbled against the skin,

“I think I could go for being a little overwhelmed.” The words occupied the air for the briefest moment before Derek surged forward, his lips capturing Stiles’ harshly. A snort of a giggle escaped Stiles as Derek picked him up. Stiles’ legs wrapped around his waist, and Derek’s hands held Stiles up from the backs of his thighs. He set Stiles on the kitchen counter, his fingers dipping underneath the hem of Stiles’ wrinkled shirt. Stiles parted his mouth in a gasp,  at the surge of electricity that erupted from Derek’s touch.  

And that’s how it always was, always had been. This pull that surged through them both, pulling them closer and closer against everything sane and understandable. It’s what had drawn Derek to Stiles in the woods, what had drawn Stiles back, what had them traipsing through the Preserve over and over. The electricity was all consuming and terrifying. The emptiness that Stiles had learned to take as normal had been filled. The feeling of being full, whole, was almost maddening. Stiles’ senses were overloaded. How could he go from nearly empty, clinging on to what little he had and functioning for his whole life like that, to now have every function actually mean something. He had someone, someone that was _his_ alone and it was exhilarating. But with every ounce that Stiles felt more and more whole, the fear that it all could be ripped away caused Stiles’ heart to stutter.

Stiles broke the kiss, letting his forehead rest on Derek’s. Derek’s palm splayed out over the pounding muscle that threatened to leap out of Stiles’ chest, exchanging each other’s heavy exhales as Stiles’ heart rate climbed back down to normal, Derek’s smile so wide it made a soreness rise in Stiles’ cheeks. Stiles exhaled a pleasant sigh as Derek continued rubbing  small circles thumb over the the wrinkled fabric.

And this was how it always would be.

* * *

 

Hours passed like seconds and days like minutes. A few trips to the local department store and the loft was partially furnished. A coffee table, a few armchairs, and a couch made their way home. As did a bookcase and a rug, which already was stained with coffee from where Derek had sloshed his cup trying to save Stiles from tripping over the new ottoman. The attempt was futile.

A set of glasses and plates. A large skillet and pot. Forks, knives, and spoons. The fridge was filled and the counters became cluttered. Toasters burnt Eggo waffles and the coffeepot sputtered and steamed as the dark amber liquid dripped down. A new handle was drilled into one of the drawers after being ripped from its screws after catching on Derek’s belt loop. The drawer also had to be repaired, the wood no match for Derek’s absentminded strength.

Curtains and a few dressers. The impossible feat of hauling a King sized mattress and bed up the metal staircase was made possible with the help of a few betas. Two sets of sheets and a down comforter, which Stiles kicked off the bed in the summer heat. The same air conditioning unit that Stiles stood in front of with his shirt pulled up was the same one Derek always seemed to bump into on his way to his morning shower.

The items trickled in and the loft was suddenly more than just empty floor space. Everything seemed to fall into place, the unknown missing puzzle pieces finding their way home.

After the initial settling in, it was time to take care of the official business. The pack traveled down to the station to met the famous Sheriff Stilinski. The betas and Allison filled out the paperwork for their registration to Beacon Hills High as Stiles and Derek sat down with the Sheriff.  Stiles noticed the confused faces of the pack as they continued to look up from their forms to stare at him with a connected shift to the Sheriff. Stiles chose to ignore them and Derek’s pensive expression, whose gaze hadn’t left the Sheriff’s since the moment they had arrived. Stiles learned that Sheriff Stilinski— _please, Stiles, call me, John—_ was more than willing to help them out. John himself had suffered an incredible hardship nearly two decades prior, when his son— _shit, what was that god awful name? Something Polish and unpronounceable_ —had been abducted. His wife then went insane, claiming he’d been taken by something supernatural. John hadn’t believed her, and thought it was just a stage of grief.  Only to find she’d gotten mixed up in the wrong crowd while pursuing her seemingly crazy theory.

The Sheriff was still trying to track down the hunters that were responsible for his wife’s death.  But the process was slow and long going: the trail was chilled, and the results little to nonexistent. The Sheriff, therefore, was incredibly understanding of their current predicament. He was more than happy to help them escape the grasp of a band of hunters.

“All right then, so I believe we have almost everything sorted out. All of the documents and forms will make it seem as if you all trickled in over time. A parking ticket here, high school registration forms spread out over the end of the spring months, a new bank account opened, one closed. On paper it will seem like the whole group is practically unconnected. This, in addition to the official names on paper, should be enough of a deterrent from the Argents.

“Now, Stiles, at this point you haven’t registered for high school. Do you plan on finishing senior year later or independent study? Deaton tells me your grades are exceptional. I’m sure if you took the necessary classes at Beacon Hills High, you’d easily be able to graduate early. You could then go on to college, far away or even at our local state college, community college is also a viable option. It’s up to you, however, I’d strongly advise pursuing your education.”

Stiles listened and nodded along. To be honest, he’d almost completely forgotten about his college plans. College had been his get out of jail free card, his light at the end of the tunnel to escape his family. The past few months, and even more recently, weeks, had switched his priorities. His entire life had been turned upside down within several weeks and here he was in a different city with a new family, on the run from his old one. _So yeah my fuckin priorities have changed._ Acceptance to secrecy to protection to survival to a state that still continued to feel foreign: peace.  Stiles laughed as that word was the one to come to mind. Traveling hundreds of miles in secrecy, stealing cars, changing names, creating an entire new life while waiting for the other shoe to drop. This is what he was calling peace. _Wow, I’m more fucked up than I thought. Jesus Christ what’s next. A TWIN TWIST. oh wait..._

Regardless, the whole ordeal was ludicrous. To call it peaceful? Absurd. And yet one hundred percent true. He finally felt like he belonged, cliches be damned. He had a family, _okay well at this point we’re a group of unlikely friends._ But they were his own and Stiles knew down to the warm contraction of his heart that they were going to be family, that he could trust them with his life and he would sacrifice himself for them. They had made it this far hadn’t they? They were in this together. He looked forward to creating his new life with them and he couldn’t imagine his future without them. In a crazy twist and turn of events, Stiles had lost nearly all the downsides and gained countless blessings.

They were nowhere near to being in the clear. Stiles knew this and he’d be lying if he said his heart didn’t sometime lurch in throat when he dreamt of being found. The fear and anxiety was there, but for once it was worth it.

“I mean, yeah, I guess, high school.” Stiles nodded along as the Sheriff pulled out another set of registration forms. “I don’t know about the college part yet, but I think senior year is a good start.” John smiled. Stiles stopped at the name portion. “What should I put?”  Everyone was quiet.

“Well, what’s Stiles short for?” John asked.

“Nothing. I don’t think...I mean. I never asked. Yeah no that's the full thing. That's what's on my drivers license...” Derek stayed quiet but his brows were furrowed and he wouldn’t meet Stiles’ eyes. Stiles tried to gauge his reaction through their connection, but felt shock and confusion before hitting a wall. Derek stared straight ahead, blocking Stiles out. “Derek, what is it? Why are you making that face?” Stiles briefly poked at the scrunch of Derek’s forehead, surprised when Derek didn’t even swat his hand away. Fuck. He looked at the Sheriff then back at Stiles.

“I....” Derek began, but stopped. _Can we talk outside for a moment--_ The thought bubbled into his head.

 _Is something wrong?_ Stiles responded before Derek gave a quick shake of his head. He stood up, Stiles following suit.

“Sorry, give us just -just one second. So sorry.” Stiles said over his shoulder as Derek waited for him by the door. They walked out into the parking lot, the morning sun heating up a bit. Stiles squinted into the sunlight, Derek’s back to him, arms crossed before turning around.

“Dude, you’re freaking me out. What’s wrong?” Stiles crossed his arms, mimicking Derek, who then proceeded to just stare at Stiles with his eyebrows pulled together. _Just because we have this freakin bond thing doesn’t mean I can read your mind. Come on little buddy. Use your words. Speak. Oh fuck is that a dog joke. I didn’t mean it as a dog joke. Can he hear me right now? Fuck. Derek can you hear me? Blink twice if you can hear me._ Derek’s head pulled back, a small huff of a laugh breathed out through his nose.

“I can only hear your thoughts if you direct them at me, as in trying to talk to me.” Stiles nodded,

“So like if I’m thinking about you...and or talking to you in a hypothetical way you wouldn’t--”

“Out of that last thought I got ‘Derek can you hear me? Blink twice...’ if that explains anything to you.”

“Right. Coolcoolcool...Cool.” Stiles said spastically, earning him a withering look from Derek. Stiles rolled his eyes, “Look, you can pretend to be annoyed, but we all know you find me endearing as fuck.” Derek shrugged. _Oh fuck you._ Derek smirked in response. “How bout you stop being a sassy asshole for five seconds and tell me what’s going on?” Derek’s face clouded once more and he gave a stern nod.

“Stiles, I can’t be certain. I don’t know for sure, but I get this feeling..but...” Derek trailed off, suddenly unsure. He had thanked Stiles’ tangent but it still wasn’t enough time to gather his thoughts completely.

“But what?” Stiles was beginning to get impatient, if not concerned.

“I think Stiles is short for Stilinski.”  Derek surveyed Stiles, listening to his heartbeat and being extremely observant of the energy of their bond, trying to gauge Stiles’ reaction. Stiles just squinted his eyes, head tilting to the left and Derek couldn’t help but catalog this in his memory as Stiles’ more adorable habits. “When I walked in, I immediately saw the connection. You guys smell extremely similar, but not from the environment. It’s at a very primal level.” Derek struggled to translate his werewolf view of the world, but then the idea came to him. He pulled on the magical tether and Stiles instinctively took a step forward. Derek thought of the smell as he walked into the room. Stiles on the surface smelt like Old Spice and fresh coffee grounds, and the fresh sent of the cheap body wash they’d picked up from Safeway (one of their first purchases). But beneath that surface scent, was _Stiles_ : rich damp earth that’s sound beneath the pads of one’s fingers with a faint aroma of sweet maple syrup and a hint of something Derek can only describe as the color yellow. There’s also the smell of the ocean, thick and salty and vibrating with energy, which Derek can only guess is from the Adderall. The Sheriff smelt like the woods, like moss on a damp redwood, with undertones of molasses, sweet but dark with a heavy, serious presence, and most importantly that odd scent of the color yellow.

Stiles exhaled heavily as he pulled away from the shared memory, looking at Derek in shock, and somewhat awe. Derek cleared his throat, “We all noticed the smell, when we walked in. The entire pack...they picked up--”

“What the hell does this mean?” Stiles interrupted, the clogs of his mind springing to life and drawing connections faster than he would have liked. “Oh god. His son. The one who was abducted. I’m him aren’t I. My parents--er not even my fucking parents--were the hunters that killed his mom--my mom. Oh my fucking god. Oh my fucking god.” Stiles’ breaths were coming in short and he could feel his heart hammer against his chest. “What the fuck. What. I don’t--” Stiles couldn't get the words out. It was as if his throat had swollen shut. Derek resisted the urge to envelope Stiles in a tight embrace, and let his energy wrap around Stiles instead.

“Stiles. Stiles Look at me. Tell me what you need. Tell me what you need.” Derek spoke clearly and calmly, trying to get Stiles’ heartbeat to join his rhythm and not vice versa. Stiles shook his head back and forth, struggling to just get oxygen to his lungs. Stiles wrapped his arms around himself, and doubled over, trying to compress himself, constrict the intrusive images flash through his mind. Derek’s voice broke through the piercing noise.  “This is all scary, it’s fucked up, but it’s not dangerous. You can get through this. You can get through this.” Derek repeated it over and over, as Stiles struggled to regain control, his heartbeat slowing slightly, his breaths coming in jagged. Derek didn’t know if the hyperventilating was better or worse.  “ _We_ will get through this. Together. _We_ will work this out. You. Me. The Pack. Allis--Do you want Allison?” Derek focused on the magnetic pull and tried to force his thoughts through the mania occurring in Stiles’ mind. Derek was pretty sure Stiles nodded but he was also slowly rocking himself back and forth trying to self-soothe.

Derek spoke in a sure steady voice asking for Allison, though he was sure one of the betas or Scott had already heard the whole ordeal. He was right as Allison came bounding out the door, her pace slowing as she approached Stiles. She was silent as she very carefully placed her hands on his elbows.

“Stiles. I need you to raise your hands above your head. On three okay. One. Two. Three.” Allison’s hands hovered around Stiles’ arms as he slowly uncrossed them. and raised them above his head, fingers touching and lowering them once more. “Stiles, you’re safe. You’re safe. You’re surrounded by people who love you. You’re getting through this. Come on hands above your head, breathe deep.” They continued to raise their arms together in unison, breathing as Allison counted to ten, again and again. As Stiles breaths started to come in more regularly, Allison smiled, “I’m so proud of you.” Stiles exhaled steadily for the first time, his inhale still shaky. “Can you feel the bond, Stiles?” Allison spoke clearly. Stiles pulled the cord, Derek feeling a strong connection again, and he felt his energy flow to Stiles, no longer hitting a wall. Stiles nodded, eyes closing as he focused on the transference of emotions. Derek felt his heart rate drop from its rabbit paced speed and the aura around him warmed.

It was several more minutes of silence before Stiles’ attack had passed. He collapsed into Derek’s arms, and Derek immediately had black veins running up his arms, taking any last bit of pain and exhaustion. He nuzzled into Stiles’ neck, protectively scent marking him out of instinct. Derek slightly pulled away and out stretched a hand to Allison, who faltered for only a moment before wrapping around Stiles and kissing him on the top of his ear. The clung to each other in group hug for a minute or two before Allison extracted her arm for moment to wipe a tear from her cheek.

“I’m sorry everything’s been so fucked.” She whispered. Stiles exhaled a laugh against Derek’s chest. They all untangled their various limbs only for Stiles to grab Allison and squeeze her in another embrace.

“I’m sorry. It’s my fault. You’ve trusted me this whole way I’ve just--”

“No, shut up. We’ve both been pretty shitty.” Allison pressed a kiss into his shoulder. “And of course I’ve trusted you. If there’s one thing I know, if I’ve got you, everything will work out. Everything will all make sense eventually.

“We’ll talk about everything that happened, Stiles. I know we will. I’m sorry I’ve be acting like I haven’t had faith in you. Because I trust you with everything. It’s just been a crazy week.”

“Try month.” Derek interjected from the side. Allison smiled at Derek over Stiles’ shoulder.

“How’s everyone inside doin?” she asked, her gaze flickering off to the glass door of the

police station. Derek could feel the entire pack was on edge, but substantially more calm than during the attack.

“Hey pups get out here!” Stiles shouted out into the parking lot. Derek’s eyes narrowed and Allison rolled hers as she gave Derek a knowing look. They both seemed to wonder how either of them put up with Stiles. “A group hug is in order!” Stiles had barely finished talking before all four of them were walking over to the empty parking spot they were congregated in. Scott was the first to join the hug, smiling wide as managed to wrap his arms around both Allison and Stiles. Erica gently whacked Stiles on the head mumbling a ‘Don’t you fucking scare us like that.’ before her arms were crossing over the Allison’ s back and one of Scott’s arms. Boyd and Isaac followed suit, Boyd squeezing a bit tight as the two humans in the middle of this dog pile groaned a bit.

“Derek!” Stiles called loudly from the mass of bodies, followed with Allison’s equally loud yell,

“Get in here, Hale!” Derek smiled savoring the scene, and pulled out his phone from his back pocket, snapping a photo of the mess of limbs before joining them. He wove his arms through the spaces.

“Happy?” Stiles asked haughtily. Derek shrugged, not even trying to hide the smirk that was having trouble leaving his face. “Oh fuck you, too.”

“Oh Jesus get a room.” Erica snarled, her chin resting on top of Allison’s shoulder, Allison seeming unperturbed by the slightly elongated fangs mere inches from her carotid.

“We have a whole loft to ourselves actually.” Stiles replied snarkily, before Isaac retorted,

“Yeah, you’re fucking above us.”

“That’s exactly right.” Derek deadpanned, before a wickedness crept into his smile. Stiles burst out into laughter, shaking the whole pack, as the pack erupted in groans and startled laughter.

* * *

 

“Okay but like when does the group hug end? Like when is it over.” Stiles said, his limbs stiff and now slightly uncomfortable.

“Yeah. They never show this part in the movies.” Scott lamented.

“Dude, right?!” 


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks so much for all the encouragment and support! 
> 
> funny story about the names in this story, so that was literally a thing that was happening to me when using the random name generator. First it was Hale, then Howler and Barker and Howland, and just too many dog/werewolf jokes honestly...

* * *

Scott's arm draped around Stiles as they marched back into the station, their laughs commingling and echoing through the hall. The betas happily followed them down the corridor, as they were a mere ID photo and signature away from completing all the steps to keeping their identities secure. Allison and Derek were slowly following, not exactly looking forward to whatever else lay in front of them. Derek was grabbing the handle to the door before Allison called his attention,

“Hey, Hale--Derek,” she quickly corrected herself, “Thanks for calling me. You didn't have to, you actually were handling it very well.” Allison was nodding solemnly,“The bond you guys have...it makes things different now, but yeah it means a lot.” She smiled genuinely up at him. Derek´s heart swelled, but he merely nodded stiffly.

“Things don't have to be so different. You're the most important person in Stiles' life. That's not going to change anytime soon, and it shouldn't.” Derek looked at her seriously, making her laugh a bit nervously. She ran her fingers over her head, and for a moment she was the spitting image of Stiles, before pushing the tressels of hair behind her ears.

“I don't mind sharing.” She said eventually, looking Derek square in the face, confidence rolling off her in waves, daring him to argue. Derek couldn't help smiling, shaking his head.

“You’re terrifyingly similar to your brother.”

 

* * *

 

Stiles drummed his fingers on the wooden desk, waiting for the Sheriff to return with the new forms. Instinctively he turned around, as he heard Allison's laugh behind him. Derek had just the bit of an upturn of his lips and the scene made any lingering fears melt away. Allison pulled a chair besides Stiles’ left side, and somehow made unceremoniously plopping into a chair look graceful. Derek reacquainted himself with the chair that was already to Stiles' right, slipping off his leather jacket and hanging it on the back.

“I’m making chocolate chip pancakes at your place tomorrow morning.” Allison said in a matter of fact tone.

“Oh so is that what you’ve been discussing?” Stiles smiled looking over at Derek only to see him hiding surprise. Stiles could see it in the faint twitch of his left eyebrow. _Thank god for those emotive caterpillars._  

“Actually, no. But I think it’s a thing that needs to happen.” Allison crossed her legs and turned her attention to the Sheriff who was just making his way over to the desk. He set down the rest of the forms and smiling warmly at Stiles.  Stiles’ heart clenched in a way he didn’t know how to make sense of.

“Okay, so here are the new registration forms and all that, and the here are the courses being offered at Beacon HIlls High School.” His fingers climbed over various sections of paper. “And here, Derek, are the documents regarding the property near the Preserve.” Derek nodded, taking the folder and flipping through the contents,

“How fast should we act on this property?”

The sheriff shrugged shaking his head, “I really wouldn’t worry about it. The only ones who know about the property are myself and Dr. Deaton. And Dr. Deaton is the legal owner of it now, and I don’t see him selling it to anyone that isn’t part of your pack.” Derek relaxed and continued to look at the details.  “Now, I don’t mean to pry but what’s your financial situation like right now? How are you handling your money? Because if you’re worried about people tracing you--”

Derek felt more than heard Stiles’ heart rate jump. His hand slid over to rest on top of Stiles’ thigh as he interrupted the sheriff,

“Thank you, yes I have it handled. I have several accounts under false names and use them all sparingly.” Stiles placed his hand over Derek’s, his hand turning over and interlocking fingers with Stiles’. “The one I used mainly in Basin Falls cannot be traced back to me, but even so I’ve taken precaution, and I’ve been taking small withdrawals and transferring them to my other accounts.”

“And you’re positive they’re untraceable?”

“Absolutely.” Derek squeezed Stiles lightly, “This isn’t the first time I’ve ran, sir.” The sheriff nodded solemnly, both relieved and pained by his response. Stiles looked back at his own registration and identification forms, his palms sweating a bit. He squeezed Derek’s hand before releasing it and grabbing a pen.

He could feel Allison watching him as the pen hovered over the first name box. He flipped the pen over and tapped the end on the paper a couple times nervously.

“I was thinking of going by Alyssa,” she said picking up her own pen.

“Alyssa really? You don’t seem like an Alyssa to me.” Stiles said, names running through his mind quickly.

“Well no shit. But I can still go by Al or Aly.”  Derek struggled to keep his smile under wraps. He’d never got to really watch the twins together before. Of course, he trusted Allison because Stiles did, but he wasn't lying before when he said Allison was terrifyingly similar to her brother.

“If we’re going by that logic, what the hell am I supposed to go by?” Stiles looked incredulous, to which Allison rolled her eyes.

“Myles rhymes...” Scott mumbled from the other room, causing Derek to chuckle. The twins turned glaring at him, and boy was he not ready for that.

“Scott’s suggesting Myles.” Derek said, biting the inside of his cheek.

“Oh my god.” They groaned in unison.

“That’s almost worse than Stiles.” Derek smiled wryly. Allison covered her mouth as she laughed hysterically. Whether she was laughing at what Derek said or Stiles’ slow turn of the head as he said,

“I will kill you.”

 

* * *

 

After about a year of arguing, the new Addison Murphy stood to have her new ID card picture taken while Stiles and Derek were using an online name generator to come up with anything semi-acceptable. Stiles had picked his first name, seeing Grayson rising in the ranks of most popular boy’s names. _But like what even are boys and girls names. They’re just names. Sheesh._ Stiles quickly typed last name generator as Derek’s scowl grew deeper and deeper. As much as Derek just wanted to pick a random name and not give a shit like he’d done before in New York, and Chicago, and Seattle, and Phoenix, and whatever else podunk town he’d passed through, but this was different. He was starting a new life. A new life with a new pack and this wasn’t just another pit stop that he rolled through. He knew returning to Basin Falls wouldn’t be permanent. He wasn’t sure if the hunters were going to run him out of town--if they didn’t kill him that is--or if his own haunted memories would. Regardless, he knew even with a new small pack, his betas, they all would have to leave again sooner or later. This new identity, whether he used it or not, was important. And once he thought about it like that, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he didn’t want to royally screw it up.

A snort that escaped Stiles caught his attention and drew him away from his phone as Stiles quickly covered his mouth, pulling his phone instinctively away from Derek.

“What?” Derek asked, confused if not slightly amused.  Stiles had the full blown giggles at this point.

“Look, I get we are like werewolf married and all and like nothing’s too fast but I swear to god. Look... I... this was honest--hand to the bestiary 2.0--the first thing that came up for this last name generator.” Stiles rotated the screen to Derek. The name in big black bold letters read: Grayson Hale.

Derek’s eyes darted up to Stiles’ immediately.

“I like it better than Argent.” Derek deadpanned, only slightly concerned that Stiles might actually choose the red flagged last name for shits-and-giggles, only making Stiles chuckle more. Derek rolled his eyes, a smirk tugging at his lips as he tried to ignore the warmth that spread through his chest as he thought of Stiles having his last name. It was stupid. That would be like putting a bullseye on their backs. But Derek couldn’t help but wonder if maybe they’d work some way around it. It was ridiculous. Derek was ridiculous. Stiles pulled his legs onto the seat, his knees pulled into his chest as he pressed refresh on the generator. Derek barely had time to revert his gaze back to his own phone before Stiles burst out laughing. He threw his head back hitting it on the back of the chair, but even that didn’t stop his mad outburst. Stiles’ arm shook as he tried to hand his phone to Derek. Derek couldn’t help but smile as he reached out and grabbed it. Stiles waited expectantly for his smile to drop and be replaced with a serious expression that was absolutely done with his shit.

He didn’t have to wait long before Derek was glaring at him with an exacerbated expression. It only made Stiles laugh harder as he choked out the words,

“Dude, I couldn’t make this shit up if I tried.” Derek’s glare worsened, trying to fight off a smile, because he was not encouraging Stiles, god damn it.

“Grayson _Howland?”_

“Get it.” Stiles laughed, tears springing to his eyes. “Like howl? Because you’re--”

“The last thing you had to do was explain it to me--”

“Hit refresh, Der. Dude, just hit refresh.” Stiles tried not to overthink the pet name he blurted out as if it was the most natural thing in the world. He couldn’t remember if he’d called him that before, but suddenly he was aware of its significance. His chuckles died down, as he thought about it.

Derek hit refresh, his face going slack for a moment of disbelief before contorting into the most disgusted combination of features Stiles had ever witnessed. _Holy shit what could possibly be worse than Howland?_ Stiles thought perching on the edge of his seat, expectantly.

“Fucking Howler? What fucking site is this?” Derek angrily jabbed at the refresh button again. Derek looked unmoved at the new name, and hit refresh a few more times before smirking. “What about Novak?”

“Novak? Grayson Novak? No that sounds ridiculous.” Derek shrugged in response, hitting refresh a few more times before a smile encompassed his face, before steeling back to a neutral expression. “No, no, no. What was that last one?” Derek’s hazel green eyes flickered back up at him, raising an eyebrow. “Don’t you lie to me. What was it?” Stiles said, not being able to keep the grin from his face. He could watch Derek debating whether or not to give it up. “You know you’re going to cave so just tell me.”

Derek snorted as he rolled his eyes. “Yeah okay."

“Asshole, c’mon! Pretty please with a cherry on top?”

 

“Steele.” Derek said slowly, watching Stiles’ eyes light up.

“Grayson Steele?! THat’s so cool!”

“Yeah, I was worried you’d say that...”

“You think it’s cool too or you wouldn’t have smirked!”

“Whatever.” Derek said as he hit refresh. Stiles momentarily hesitated before finally writing his last name in the given boxes.

“Okay well that leaves you. Have you even picked a first name yet?” Derek shrugged in response. Stiles could feel his reluctance to answer. He shifted his limbs, legs crossing over each other, the movement catching Derek’s attention. Derek didn’t understand how Stiles could sit in any of those positions, let alone deem them comfortable. “What about Miguel? You could be a Miguel. I can see it.” The name startled a quirk of eyebrows and snort from Derek and Stiles felt instantly rewarded even as silence settled upon them once more, Derek looking back at the forms that were only lacking a few signatures and the first two boxes. “How many identities do you have?”

Derek had been expecting the question, but was partially surprised it had taken Stiles this long to ask.

“A lot.” Derek reached into his wallet and pulled out the three IDs he kept on him. California, New York, and Massachusetts. His real ID was the first one Stiles picked up. Laura had taken him to take the test, he remembered sitting in the passenger seat his arms crossed over his chest as if he could keep the smell of his anxiety from leaking through his pores as they waited at the Salinas DMV.

“You’re going to do fine. Don’t worry about. Just remember, always always ALWAYS check your mirrors, look over your shoulder before changing lanes and--”

“Laura! Shut up.” He’d readjusted his seatbelt before taking it off, stalling.

“And come to a complete stop. Non of this California stopping bullshit okay. You can drive like a normal person once you get the license. Until then you are a grandma. You’re not just a grandma, you’re a human grandma who can’t see very well and can’t hear worth a damn okay. So your head should jerk a bit. That’s how complete of a stop. Now, obviously don’t give him whiplash, smooth stop. Smooth _complete_ , stop.” Laura mimicked the action, her head slowly pulling forward before falling back into its upright position, it rocked back and forth for a moment like a bobble head. Derek rolled his eyes, but tucked that bit of info away in the back of his mind. She began drumming her fingers on the steering wheel, thinking of any last minute tips before reaching one arm out and fluffing up Derek’s hair as he pretended to mind.  

“What if I don’t pass?” Derek said as he looked out the windshield and watched one girl shake hands with the driving instructor.

“Then we got get milkshakes, say fuck the system, and then we come back later after some more practice and take it again.”  Derek smirked as Laura punched him in the shoulder.

 

They had gotten milkshakes, but it was celebratory. Derek had driven them there, his temporary paper license sitting proudly in the glove box. He’d yelled at Laura the entire drive over, repeated the driver instructor’s words.

“ ‘Your stops were a little rough. My head shouldn’t really shake when you stop.’ Laura you almost cost me my license!” Laura had laughed and bickered back, even when she held her breath as Derek tried to parallel park.

“Okay kiddo, let me do this one okay?”

 

Derek was awakened from his reverie as he noticed Stiles smiling fondly at him, his amber eyes glowing bright. He cleared his throat as he gestured to the ID in Stiles’ hands.

“That’s my real one. Laura took me to the test, almost failed because of her.” Stiles’ happy smile only widened, and Derek was hit with another realization of how much he loved Stiles. Stiles loved to listen to him; as much as he was a chatterbox and could talk nonstop for hours, he could listen and he knew when to respond and when to sit quietly. It seemed like Derek could say anything and Stiles would listen, contently. They could banter and argue, going back and forth like a dance, and they could enjoy each other’s presence without noise pollution as well. Stiles’ happy grin made Derek want to tell him every small anecdote of his life.

But it was also even more than that. Derek knew he could very contently just exist in the same space of Stiles. He’d resigned himself to just existing near him when he’d met him in the woods that one night. Of course his mate would be a hunter, an Argent hunter nonetheless. He had easily imagined his future of the pull of the bond as he continually went back to Stiles again and again until history repeated itself. He had briefly wondered if he would eventually die at Stiles’ hands. If he’d die willingly, if only for a moment more of intimacy. But it had unfolded so differently.

He remembered Stiles’ second attempt to kill him, how after they’d laid in silence with one another, how Stiles had said goodnight and wandered back to his car. Derek had stayed at their spot, had listened to Stiles’ heartbeat fade into the distance, wondering what the fuck he was doing. Even with his thoughts running wild and taking him far away from the chill of the madrugada, he heard a spike in the beat--how its quickened rate rivaled a rabbit’s and Derek was pulled to his feet, navigating the woods as he pulled towards the heart that had become his anchor. He could fear Stiles’ frightened curse words from what seemed like miles away. Derek was certain the bond had strengthened his abilities as he nimbly ran through the forest with only one thing on his mind, and with each step he could feel the bond pull stronger. Suddenly he was within arms reach of his mate and he was hopping over a large limb of a tree landing in a squat beside Stiles, who had squawked and jumped from the scare of the Alpha suddenly appearing next to him. Derek tried to tamper down the hope that swelled in his chest when he noticed that the anxiety was already disappearing, and instead relief was scenting the air with peppermint and eucalyptus. He couldn't hide the fondness in his voice as he chastised Stiles, only to be left nearly breathless a beat later.

 _“I hate you so much.”_ And it was a lie, the tell tale stutter of rhythm giving Stiles away. Derek had smirked for a moment and wondered if the future might hold something else for them both.

Derek looked at Stiles now, whose honey colored eyes were beaming up at him, content to watch Derek get lost in his thoughts. His hands mindlessly tracing the edge of the multiple driver licenses, and Derek cupped his jaw and pulled him in, their lips brushing briefly in a sweet kiss. When he pulled away, Stiles was smiling, a peek of blush on his cheeks as his teeth bit on his bottom lip. Derek stoked his cheekbone, where the pink flushed against his pale skin and moles, before pressing the refresh on the phone one more time.

 

* * *

 

 “Well, Mr. Dylan Holton. You are quite dapper, did you know that?” Stiles laughed as he tugged on Derek’s jacket. “I do believe a Mr. Grayson Steele would like to buy you a drink.” Stiles waggled his eyebrows and let Derek roll his eyes before interlocking their fingers and dragging them out of the station.

 


End file.
